Now the Perth rail network may be modest by comparison. but what it lacks in size, it makes up for in effciency. I must admit, we’re blessed by being on the recently opened airport line, but our soiree to Fremantle went smoothly. We had been planning to meet up with two good mates Gregg and Kim who were in Perth from Melboure, catching up with family . We agreed to meet at Gage Road Brewery, which has been converted from a disused rail storage shed into a bar and foodary.
What use to be a rail head for the port of Fremantle is gradually being converted into an entertainment precinct and is also the jump off point for day trippers heading to Rottnest Island (more about that later).
Ciders, sliders and the ‘Fremantle Doctor’ made for a pleasant afternoon before we were ‘persuaded’ to make a detour to the Burswood Casino. Mercifully, the allocated funds were quickly exhausted with just enough small change for a cab ride home.
Another bonus for our Caravan Park temporary home. was it’s proximity to Ascot Racetrack and, as luck would have it, a meeting was scheduled just a few days later. We both love chancing our arms with the bookies, but Tamika is pretty much a Yoda when it comes to the form guide. Of course it was a walk to get there, but we didn’t hesitate, given our new found commitment to a more sustainable lifestyle (since Tamika has been walking everywhere, Uber stocks have slumped!).
Unfortunately, I’m not a form hound, but from time to time a horse catches my eye. Ducks line up, as it were – freshened up, apprentice claim, NZ horse, transported from a regional track in SA all the way to Ascot and, most importantly, totally unloved by the punters. Even the name, Royal Choisir hinted at pedigree. So, when Tamika asked me if I wanted to place a bet on something, I thought $5 each-way at 125-1 was something I could afford to lose. But when ‘Yoda’ checked the form guide, she came back and said, “It can’t win, I just put $5 for a place on it.”
The wailing started at the 600m mark as Royal Choisir started her move around the field, and only got louder when she hit the lead 300m from home. It’s not me wailing…. it’s Tamika. I’ve never heard her cheer so desperately for the tip to run second…….. Anyway, here’s a pic of Royal Choisir winning comfortably in the feature race and I’ll let you imagine what distraught looks like. Oh well…
Still, it was a fun day and, apart from the computerised bookmaker’ s stands, race day traditions haven’t changed in fifty years. Plenty of fillies in the mounting yard (otherwise known as the main bar), all decked out in party mode and they’d be staggering for a cab after the last race for sure.
But as always, a smattering of elderly ‘serious’ punters, with their form guides and pens, scratching furious notes and lines as the horses parade before the race. Or they were clustered with their cohorts hunched over macciatos and mobile phones.
We left after the sixth race and, pushed along by a tail wind, we’re home just in time to watch the news……and the replay.