
Probably the one disappointment of our stay in Victoria was the weather, but that actually in retrospect seems worse than it was. We arrived the Tuesday evening prior to Flemington, and it was hot and sunny from the start of the tour up to and including the following Monday, apart from a few hours of light (while we were watching the international horses work at Sandown) and then heavy (particularly while we were walking to Caulfield station, without the umbrella which I stupidly assured Emma that we wouldn't need) rain on Thursday morning. But Cup Day was cold and windy, and the following day wasn't a lot better, so although that's only two inclement days, they are two inclement days which stick in the mind - particularly in Emma's mind, because she seemed about as cold at Flemington on the Tuesday as I become any time I'm unwise enough to go to Cheltenham. Which means bloody freezing. The weather was starting to improve when we left on Thursday, and we had just about perfect weather for the rest of the stay, although it was extremely windy for part of the time we were on Moreton Island - although that was nothing compared to the hail which was falling in Brisbane at the time. Or the snow in Ballarat. We were actually lucky in Brisbane because, although we did have to take care not to get sunburnt, it wasn't too hot, which it can be, and it was pleasantly cool during the nights. Perfect - and we might have a week or two of similar conditions to look forward to in the UK in about seven or eight months' time.
Treats from Victoria which I failed to acknowledge included a visit to 'Champions' in Federation Square in Melbourne at lunchtime on Thursday, prior to meeting Joff at his office for an early kick-off for our drive to the High Country. When I'd last been in Melbourne eight years ago, a racing museum had recently been installed in the grandstand at Caulfield, and it was rather nice. That has now gone, and instead we have Champions, right in the heart of the city. It is a museum and is home to the Hall Of Fame. It's great to have this so central, and it really illustrates just how central to life there is the sport of kings. Unlike, sadly, here. It's a great display. There isn't actually that much, but what there is is used to best advantage. On a similar note, on the Sunday Joff took us, again after starting the day at Sandown, this time with a well-fed press conference thrown in, to 'Living Legends' out towards Sunbury, just beside Tullamarine airport. This is an excellent institution. I suspect if one goes there in another few months there will be more there, but they'd rushed to get it open for Cup week, so all it is is what it's about: the horses. Residing in four paddocks beside an interesting old homestead, maintained by a historical society, are eight living legends. The animals live there two by two: Doriemus and Might And Power (first and second in the 1997 Melbourne Cup, separated that day by about half an inch), Sky Heights (all the horses there look tremendous, but he's a real stunner) and Juggler, Paris Lane and Rogan Josh (both Cup winners), and BLU and FOO (Hayes-trained Cox Plate winners, Better Loosen Up who beat Stylish Century in the Mackinnon Stakes on my first Derby Day, 1990, the start after winning the Cox Plate and the start before winning the Japan Cup, and Fields Of Omagh who, remarkably, had concluded his career eight days previously by winning his second Cox Plate on his fifth start in the race. Special horses in a special place.

Having missed the Winning Post jamboree, Richard was definitely present for our final night's entertainment, which he and Joff laid on at Richard's instigation and organisation. Firstly we were treated to 'a taste of old Melbourne' (oh so reminiscent of Kramer's spell as reinsman on a hansom cab in Central Park, although fortunately Dickie hadn't been feeding the steeds Beeferino) as were pulled round the city by a pony-and-trap (in fairness to Dickie, he couldn't possibly have predicted just how cold it would be when he made the arrangements) before boarding a tramcar for a dinner on the move, around the city and south-eastern suburbs. That's an idyllic way to spend the evening which I'd recommend to anyone, and it was typically kind of Richard to produce this surprise treat - the only shame was that, still suffering from the chill of Cup Day, Emma was "scratched on vet's advice" an hour or so before the evening's end - but Dickie had the "Sheilas from Sale" to serenade instead, so that was no problem.
New South Wales was lovely, both in Sydney (we stayed for two nights virtually under the bridge, within three minutes' walk of Circular Quay) and outside, as our visit to the Hunter Valley was lovely. In addition to seeing lovely studs and horses, we made the inspired choice to drive up to the Barrington Tops National Park, which would make a pretty good alternative setting for 'The Man From Snowy River'. Bronwyn was a very kind host, and we had a memorable stay in a special place.



A similarly special outing happened on Sunday arvo when we were four of around five hundred in the audience in Pioneer Village Hall for a concert by Graeme Connors. I know that every time one goes to a really good concert one is tempted to say that that was the best ever, but really this show raised the bar as regards what one can expect from a show. Winner of 12 Golden Guitars (Australia's country awards, although I'd call his music country rock), Graeme is the complete performer - because he quite clearly loves music and, just as importantly, loves the country around him and its people, and loves to entertain. In two hours, he played his guitar (sometimes with two accompanying musicians, sometimes on his own) and sang, but equally importantly he informed and entertained, relating the background to all his songs and telling stories to fit everything together. At half-time he asked for requests, and dozens of people lined up to write their choice on sheets of A4 - and the remarkable thing was that dozens of different songs were requested. So many special songs, not least the one with which he finished the show, the one he wrote for and sang at the opening and closing of the Paralympics in Sydney in 2000. We had tears in our eyes and a lump in our throat, we laughed, we sang and we clapped. And clapped. And clapped. Sensational. And then, to cap it all off, he had time for everyone afterwards: it wouldn't have mattered how many people lined up to shake his hand or ask for him to sign a CD afterwards, he found time for much more than a quick greeting for everyone as he chatted to everyone individually, remembering anyone he'd met before. I've said "That was the best concert ever" several times before, but after Sunday afternoon it will have to be a very special show indeed to make me say that again.
And that's just a few of the treats we've had. It was a wonderful holiday, thanks to the kindness of so many good people and to the wonderful country that Australia is. I could go on and on, but it's now 6.45 so it's time to go outside and start the day - and unfortunately, in November, starting the day in Newmarket isn't as idyllic as starting it in Deagon (or anywhere else where we've started it in the past three weeks). Ah well ... Anyway, if you've been bored, don't say you weren't warned. And if you've enjoyed reading this, however much you've enjoyed it, you probably haven't enjoyed it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. I just hope that it isn't another eight years until my next visit.
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Saxon Street's Scotch pie supply is somewhat depleted but fear not I am off up to Scottyland on Thursday to replenish stocks!
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