It’s Friday night, Derby Day eve. I’m no punter, yet I love a racecourse. It is a mystery to me, I know.
Stopping all stations A photographer, A punter, and a drunk guy drunk calling; A lady Frankston bound, nodding off. Spring and Winter for Gai and Bart Buffering and Fiorente. Till we meet again the Carnival is over.
The season has changed and a wet winter has become a windy spring. It is late afternoon on Guineas Day and I am walking passed the local oval. Goal posts have gone, the mud has dried and the turf wicket is down. Whites replace the blue and white Grammarian guernseys and a game of cricket […]