At The Races
I allow Sonnet her girls week-end and spend (escape?) Saturday in the Surrey hills at a hotel & spa in Lingfield next to a race track which allows us to sit outside in the glorious sunshine watching the horses-- stunningly beautiful animals-- gallop by at break-neck speeds. There is resistance in the ranks, however, as the Shakespeares concerned that the horses will be "whipped." The kids do not know a thing about horse races but somehow they know this (Madeleine particularly concerned for the animal's welfare, not wishing to watch the poor creatures suffer). Eventually the excitement builds and we overcome our concerns for the duration of the first race, about thirty-seconds, then they are totally, utterly, bored. A sunny evening and unusual entertainment ain't enough, no sir. Happily they find the sprinklers which is not Ok since I do not have a change of clothes for dinner. But I roll with the afternoon - what choice do I have, really? The spectator stands next to the hotel take maybe 3,000 people, mostly dressed in fancy, who sit on the green grass and drink Pimms or picnic. There are plenty of children running around, separated from the action by a simple white fence. It is very casual and nothing like the formal events and gambling in my mind's eye. Much better this way in any case.
Madeline on the horse race: "Will they whip it?"
