We clambered on the train at Oakwood,clambered being the operative word in our high heels and higher hats. Drawing the odd look from women and big smiles from the men..funny that. The male race as a whole love to see woman dressed up to the nines it would seem. The women on the other hand appraise the outfits with a critical eye . Does the dress look right ? does the bag match the hat? I wonder where those shoes are from. ? Oblivious as always we are chattering madly the one glass of champagne already working its magic by loosening our tongues.
As is tradition I got the girls to take a picture of me on my phone to send to the Aussie. It was a habit of mine that on racedays he would get a picture. He responded quickly and then as usual digressed into sex speak! Shame he didn’t want to come and put his words into action sigh….but on with the day.
Waterloo station is buzzing and full of other race-goers and the other three of our posse are standing under the big clock as arranged. We catch up and with quick visits to the loo we check out train times and wait patiently by the turnstiles. A group of station workers goes by and the youngest amongst them grins broadly at me and I throw him one of my bestest smiles. His much older and grumpy colleague chivvies him along muttering loudly something about “Mutton dressed as lamb” Charming!! just because he looked like a hobbit.
Dismissing his remark the train pulls in and off we go.
It was hard to find seats all together as the train was rammed with other race-goers but eventually we manage to a least be within chattering range and more importantly pouring distance. Bums on seats ,glasses out,champagne opened.
We are sharing our booth with a man on his own and couple. Oh Dear ! hope they don’t mind sharing with noisy quaffing women. The train pulls out and off we go..my phone is going off a lot and I end up having to take a call but It doesn’t interfere with my drinking..I pass cheese rolls round from my big bag and hand out crisps. I had come prepared , if we are going to last the whole day then some eating with be required.
I offer the man opposite a glass of champers he declines politely in a strong Scottish accent apologizing that he only drinks whiskey. The girls pass other bottles to me for opening, my years behind bars (The drinking kind) have made me an expert in corking and we don’t want to waste it. Somehow though we havent been sensible suggesting that everyone brings a bottle was a little silly. The journey takes about an hour and with only two sharing we have seven bottles between nine of us. We can’t take it further than Ascot station oh dear! Realising our mistake we start knocking it back. I manage to persuade the scotmans to join us and by the journey’s end he is holding the bottles for me and helping me pour. The happy couple also get a glass and my cheese rolls get passed onto other passengers. You have got to love the Ascot train!.
At some point drink gets spilt and someone calls for wipes. It fine I say all pleased with myself I have thought of everything and plunging into my bag I pull out a small packet of handbag sized wipes and pass them round. Jane starts laughing loudly as they reach her lap. I turn round to find out the joke..Still giggling she holds up the wipes..trying to focus through the backs of seats I see the joke. Laughing out loud I grab them back from her they had “Intimate and Vaginal wipes written in big letters” How embarrassing they had been all round the train. Trust me sex on the brain as usual and always prepared.
We disembark and winging our way through the station and onto the pathway we head for the grounds. The place is heaving, high on testosterone, the whiff of perfume just out weighing that of aftershave. The biggest result is that it’s NOT raining. I’m getting tips on my phone for which runners to bet on. Best to do it all at once I remember any names in about ten minutes. We manage to see the royal procession and the first few races at close quarters .
In between we chat to various groups of the suited and booted. I spend a bbbit of time chatting to a nice young man called ben and with his number in my phone for later off we go for more champagne
Trudy gets lost twice and I have to keep a close eye on her and leading her by the hand I keep her in view.
Eventually we settle under a large tent to rest our feet doesn’t matter what shoes you wear eventually we will all be barefoot. Its my round so off to the bar I go. The bar is awash with young student types male and female. My barman is rather yummy. Shoulder length hair and dark eyes..hmmm..I chat to him and ask where he is from a French accent replies. Very sexy the French accent. We are in animated conversation and pouring a larger than average amount in my cocktail with a wink he seems happy to flirt. Deciding I will have to come back to this bar I carry the tray back to the girls.
The sun came out and we weaved in and out of tents glasses constantly full. Laura’s phone went off , it was Jane she was with Nicola and wasnt feeling very well. We went to find them. Jane was a white a sheet and Laura remarked that she look rather like Casper the ghost. She had been violently sick and needed to go. It was late afternoon by now but she didn’t feel well enough to stay the course. She doesn’t usually drink champagne and not even my cheese roll seemed to have helped. Nicola said she would go with her which was kind. Saying our good byes the rest off us went to sing around the bandstand. But not before I had bought another drink and flirted some more with the gorgeous french barman.
With everyone waving the british flag and singing at the top of their voices it was a fine and traditional end to the day. Kate was speed dating and we had lost Margo this time. But we managed to gather up and head off for Ascot village for even more drinking and a bit of dancing. But before we went I went to locate the sexy Frenchman and blatantly asked him for his number he happily put it in my phone. Smiling and saying thanks I run off laughing at my own audacity,
The pub by the station was full to the brim and we stayed outside mingling, dancing and knocking back an orange shot!!! yuk!. Someone tapped me on the shoulder and I spun round to find myself looking at my original Ascot Toyboy ! I had met him a couple of weeks after “he who must not be named” run off with the neighbour. His name was Anthony and he had blatantly propositioned me under my umbrella and we had a full on snog and exchanged numbers. Sometime after Ascot he had made the long and boring journey to come and see me one evening . This was one of my early toyboy encounters and was so entertaining I have dedicated a chapter of the book to Anthony!. (the contents of which are far too steamy for my blog im afraid) there he was stood before me looking stones lighter and bloody gorgeous.
He was out of his face off course but we chatted and he seemed to think that he had taken advantage of me during that steamy encounter. I reassure him that on the contrary he was very good for me and my ego and the sex had been amazingly hot! I remember he was keeping scores of his seductions and I think I was no 97 and I remind him of that fact. He grins broadly and says 182 now. Jesus the boy is prolific. He mumbled something to himself about being a tart and promptly went of with number 183.
I suddenly noticed that Trudy who had gone to the loo sometime ago was still not back. It was quite usual to lose Trudy and find her asleep somewhere. Just as I decided to go look for her She appeared also looking pale . She had as usual fallen asleep on a sofa but having got up she had found that her legs weren’t working and toppled down the stairs. she was bit bruised but ok and wanted to go home so I escorted her to the station. On the way I had a look out for Margo who had also wandered off. Next year I’m going to get everyone a lead.
Kate was having a snogothon with a guy that looked like Joey Essex and Laura was talking to an older guy with a top hat . After a bit more dancing the pub rang last orders and we headed for the train, With the effects of the day beginning to take its toll we would be glad to get home. Eventually reaching Waterloo we stopped off some food and noticed that the clock was nearing midnight. It would be well past one by the time we got to Oakwood. My phone was almost out of battery as I tried to text Trudy to see if she got home ok. But I was very pleased that I had not sent any texts that I shouldnt! Just as well that certain Irish number was removed.
Margo had been found but needed holding on too and eventually we clambered on the tube still in our hats but mainly carrying our shoes. We were all flagging as we grabbed seats in a row. Olivia was about to sit next to me when a loud and very rude girl sat down pushing Livi aside!. She was clearly drunk and I patted Livi and shook my head as she glared at the perpetrator. Drunken pratts on crowded tubes are best ignored.
Kate put her head on Lauras Lap and was dosing and Livi was stood in front of me. The drunken pratt was staring at us with distaste. She had obviously never seen hats and fascinatiors before. Eventually her mouth opened and she started spewing abuse about people who have big hats on theirs heads get the hump when you nick their seats. I bit my tongue ..she really did need a slap.
Kate roused from her nap caught some of the conversation and didn’t like it. Rising up she made for the girl and was gonna let her have it. I grabbed Livi as Laura pulled Kate back..the ignorant cow was not worth a tube side brawl. As we pulled into the station motor mouth got up and once by the door spewed a load more abuse at Livi before leaping off. Shame she didn’t forget to mind the bloody gap! Livi promptly burst into tears at the insults and I gave her a cuddle as she took the seat.
The rest of our journey was with out event except that trying to get Margo off her seat proved eventful. She was totally out of it and couldn’t be roused it took three of us shouting and pushing to get her too her feet and into the cab!. On the whole it had been a lovely day and we would all be miserable tomorrow nursing our hangovers and wishing we could do it all again.
I got in at about 1.30pm and immediately plugged in my phone within five minutes it was going off madly. A message from Trudy saying that she had been pestered all the way home by a young race-goer and would you believe it a long text from Irish apologising for late reply and asking when he could come to see me…he didnt think I was mad lunatic after all!!.
The next day watching TV and just resting my poor feet I replied to his text saying call me. Late into the afternoon he still hadn’t so I called him! He didn’t pick up.!! Grrr here we go again. Ten minutes later he called back. We had our usual long and animated conversation and arranged for him to come on Tuesday. With the giant still at the girlfriends the coast would be clear. I had to give him a complicated new train route as the “Cougar Mobile ” was in for repair.
Tuesday evening came and knowing him well I text him are we still looking at 8pm.? His answer was 9 would be better. I said fine and knew that it would nearer ten . So I opened some wine and carried on reading the last and final Grey book. The clock ticked on and at about 9am I text to see how he was doing. Still on the tube it would seem..ah well more wine then. More texts flew back and forth with directions and more wine flew down my neck.
He arrived about 10.30pm apologising. By now I was somewhat sozzled but walked up to meet him. I saw his large figure ambling down the road and I jumped at him and threw my arms round his neck kissing him hard. He seemed a little surprised at my public display of affection and then I slapped him playfully! saying “”Your so late”.
Once in the door we kick off our shoes and settle on the sofa and he has to listen whilst I drunkenly bring him up to speed on my last few weeks. He watches my face intently trying to keep up as I jump from one subject to the other. Eventually I give him a chance to speak and I listen his soft Irish voice and as usual find it soothing and sexy. Some minutes later the room is quiet as the kissing begins.
The kissing along with what follows, continues into the night and most of the next morning ! By the time I show him the door its 1pm . My legs have turned to mush and I have a glassy-eyed stare and sex hair but I’m smiling broadly. I let him go reluctantly and he leaves dragging his heels. “Till the next time” he says with conviction kissing me once more hmmm I wonder…..