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Bit Of A Yarn

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Fred

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My garden might - I said might - get some much needed attention.     I don't see housework being a beneficiary...ugh.

I'm looking forward to doing more cooking/baking,  I like cooking,  I just resent being expected to do it.

And, now that I am not coming home from the stables tired, stiff and sore,  the dogs will benefit hugely.

We all went round a deserted track this morning,  the greyhound had a few semi-energetic canters,  the crossbred bitch ran for the hour we were out,  the elderly terrier became selectively deaf until I was able to sneak up on him towards the finish...all now home, muddy and very pleased with themselves.

Edited by Freda
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I remember when:

As a lad at the Hokitika races there would be queues to get in.  The car park full as were the surrounding streets.

Half the population of the town there.  

Old friends from South Westland - Franz Joseph, Fox, Haast.

Hearing the tote bell ringing.

The smell of horses and their poop which were within reach.  The horses that is. Trainers allowing you to pat them if you were polite in your asking.

Percy Hurrens pies.  

The bar under the grandstand.  All concrete and shelves to lean on round the outside.  Only beer (west coast brewed), whiskey, gin, rum, lemonade and coke.  Nothing fancy.

Jockey names that became ingrained on the brain - Skelton, Mein, McAra, a young Walsh - young ratbags Morton and Molloy.

The balloon over the semaphore boards.  

The cardboard tote tickets in different colours.

The moving white and yellow tapes on the tote depicting the horse price.  I think yellow was win white a place.

The start of one race was practically in the car park and stables.  An entrance single lane running beside it.

Oh and if you were lucky to have connections - "We're trying today - get on".

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On 30/03/2020 at 2:00 PM, Chief Stipe said:

I remember when:

As a lad at the Hokitika races there would be queues to get in.  The car park full as were the surrounding streets.

Half the population of the town there.  

Old friends from South Westland - Franz Joseph, Fox, Haast.

Hearing the tote bell ringing.

The smell of horses and their poop which were within reach.  The horses that is. Trainers allowing you to pat them if you were polite in your asking.

Percy Hurrens pies.  

The bar under the grandstand.  All concrete and shelves to lean on round the outside.  Only beer (west coast brewed), whiskey, gin, rum, lemonade and coke.  Nothing fancy.

Jockey names that became ingrained on the brain - Skelton, Mein, McAra, a young Walsh - young ratbags Morton and Molloy.

The balloon over the semaphore boards.  

The cardboard tote tickets in different colours.

The moving white and yellow tapes on the tote depicting the horse price.  I think yellow was win white a place.

The start of one race was practically in the car park and stables.  An entrance single lane running beside it.

Oh and if you were lucky to have connections - "We're trying today - get on".

Great meeting there, everything handy, made for great viewing, the local trainers, Pope's, Keenan's, William's, Wildbores, to name a few, the scenic land stakes for the mares, which was worth 5K back then, then the bracketed races, which I found hard to understand at the time, and only 40c for a race book back in those days, remember a few of the hardy campaigners that would would front up, a few of my favourites, ernest a showy black horse, gaucho, High Roona, worldly miss, brutus, firpo just to name a few, the memories keep flooding back, they were great days, have to grab for the hanky now, to dry the eyes.

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