Just back from York races. While we were there a friend texted me with something that was spotted in an ad feature for a health and beauty spa "Go on, soil yourself !" - brilliant!
York racecourse was packed. We managed to pick a winner each but the best bit for me is peering through the binoculars at the moneyed set across the track. You can tell the real money from the nouveau stuff. I've never seen such fat old mutton dressed as spring lamb. Backless and almost frontless dresses and stiletto heels just weren't the right things to wear in biting gales and feather designer hats look distinctly comical when worn at a tilt after too many glasses of cheap bubbly.
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