I always considered myself a bit of a working class Duck, as my whole purpose in life is to be a life-partner style companion to Kate. A Duck-in-Waiting, if you will. So, because of this, I thought I might feel a little out of place at Royal Ascot on Saturday when I had the opportunity to go. I got myself all dressed up, made sure there were enough
skins layers to keep me warm, and set off.
I have to say, my initial impression was one of great excitement and anticipation. I was surrounded by beautifully turned out ladies and gentlemen, top hats and tails and everything! Bottles of champagne popped around my ears and I basked in this glimpse into the upper echelons of society, enjoying a window into their world. This.did.not.last.long!
We strolled through to the main part, where we were going to daintily sit around eating crumpets and drinking tea
(or something like that), but when the man on the ticket gate took our raspberry liqueur off us because it was ‘spirits’ (come off it!), I had a sinking feeling – and I’m a Duck…sinking feelings tend to be bad! This was further compounded when we got in and were instantly engulfed by a huge crowd of mingling people (and a husband and wife having a tearful row) struggling to find a tiny patch of grass that we could call home for the following 4 racing hours. When we eventually found a tiny patch miles away from everywhere and still surrounded by people, we were able to place our bets in peace. This lasted all of 15 minutes when, out of nowhere, slices of bread flew through the air. Then half a French stick. Then a Ginsters pasty landed in the middle of our picnic food. Hmm. Our afternoon was punctuated by a variety of different baked goods landing on or near our picnic area, groups of inebriated fellows plumbing the depths of the English language and then followed up by witnessing a fist fight on the way back to the car-park. The only conclusion I can draw from this experience is that working class or no working class, I may be too much of a snob to enjoy Royal Ascot. I think I need to go up in the world…how do you get tickets to the Chelsea Flower Show? I think that may be more my scene.