Saturday is Epsom Derby Day, and this year it's a scorcher. My friend and I walked up to Epsom Downs about 3PM via the secret network of footpaths that weave between the hedgerows of a few stately homes, and past some lovely pubs. On the Downs, it's a madhouse. Very few of the aristocratic and/or rich people in the stands, dressed in their top hats and tails, and summer florals and hats could really maintain the cool and collected look of this elegant couple in pink. The sparrow-like jockeys are very strange to see up close, bow-legged, hook nosed, and hunch-backed, and the race itself was over in a flash. They only run around about 1/2 of the race track, and you can see the pack bobbing along the horizon line. The stands are packed with people balancing champagne flutes as they dine on Coronation Chicken and strawberries. The center of the track is also packed, in this case with a hot and cheerful drunken mob, enjoying fairground rides, bouncing castles and vendor stalls selling grilled sausages and hamburgers. The Queen was there, a tiny lady in a yellow and white coatdress and matching hat, standing in the bow fronted tier of the stand.
A very curious local event.
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