Friday, December the 6th, 2019. It’s the years’ end and I’ve noticed lots of announcements by proud parents reporting on scholastic achievements all about the virtual spaces that we inhabit in our down time, or up time, as it could be.
The dirt at the MCG has barely settled after that wonderful day at the ‘G’ barely two weeks ago and here I am treading the luscious green turf of the Caulfield racecourse. Gone are the earthy jeans, puffer jacket, tiger scarf and runners.
This is Sharon. We met the day after the grand final on a Punt Road bound train. I got on at Caulfield station with Hugo, my only Tiger offspring, and at 14 years and five months of age he has been a devoted fan throughout. Together we have traversed the muddy times, the shock losses […]
It’s Friday night, Derby Day eve. I’m no punter, yet I love a racecourse. It is a mystery to me, I know.
Friday night prelim Hawks v Cats A glass of red Crispy soft shell crab and a Thai green curry. Go hawks. image pen, ink and watercolour
I didn’t go to any footy games this weekend but for some reason I feel as if I did, and not one or two games, but many.
…..Not my words; I heard them this morning on the radio in a post weekend sports wrap up. A weekend in which the Tigers went down by a point, Cyril did his hammy and Randwick bore witness to an intriguing public spat. The days are mild, the evenings are cold and the heater needs repairing.