“Race Night at the Old Oak – Wednesday 25 June 2008″

 

Arriving at the Oak, I was welcomed by Laura from Jameson at the door, with a Jameson & Ginger.  Was I getting the VIB treatment?  I politely declined – I knew this could be a long night.  Moving on into the bar I wondered at first was I in the right place.   It seemed brighter, airier and there was a buzz in the air.  A huge screen displayed the 8 races to take place -  Old MacDonald Stakes (runners:  Woof Woof, Quack Quack, Oink Oink …), Pasta Plate (runners:  Lasagne, Cannelloni, Linguine …) Panto Stakes, Fruitbowl Platter, Vile Vilains - get the picture?    Beside it, looking every bit the hostess for the night (even before donning the Cheltenham style hat), was Martina.   Rosettes hung from the rafters and signs indicated betting station and pay out station whereupon I found my three team mates and event organisers, Shauna, Aine, and Rachel, red caps perched on their heads, busying around with lap tops, betting forms, calculators and a bell.

 

For those VIBs – Very Important Betters, tables – with bright green tablecloths, a scattering of confetti, strawberries and wait for it…. champagne cooling in the ice bucket!  - waited to be filled.  

 

Deirdre, recovered from her ankle injury, was running around selling raffle tickets – my first gamble of the night.   It all looked very promising that is until I realised the running around also had to do with the remote control having gone missing!   Was there to be no races then?  What about the bets already placed?   The girls were cool under pressure – they had thought of a plan B - bet on the Euro Semi Final instead.   Or maybe that was Plan C?    Rachel saved the day by dashing home and returning a short time later with her dvd player complete with remote which worked like a dream.    

 

So the races could begin.       Did I mention a buzz in the air?   I should have said a rustle/rattle – of notes and money exchanging hands at the stations.   There were queues to place bets, everyone holding on to their betting slips for dear life until the race was over whereupon the lucky winners were back up at the station claiming their stakes or - in my case - tearing it to shreds as yet again I had backed another loser.  Ah well, the beer was flowing and there was always the next race.  

 

Half way thru’, the 4-legged races gave way to 2-legged ones as 4 hurlers squared up to 4 footballers to see which team would down a pint the fastest.  Not to be outdone the ladies of the club got involved and the camogiers faced the ladies football.  The hurlers/camogiers won in both events – who says we never win? Of course I had backed the winners this time round but I had underestimated their speed and skill at downing pints (the guys) and a small beer (the girls).    But the raffle was yet to come and my luck was in – a bottle of Jameson came my way.   Prizes of complimentary dinners, champagne, lap top bags, whiskey were dished out.

 

So the last bet was placed, the last race run, the last pay out.    It was over.   Tables were cleared, lap tops shut down, money was counted.  So was it a success – absolutely.

 

And were there any bit spenders that night?  Who are the real gamblers?  Only the girls know that.  Your secret is safe … not! “

 

 

signed:  Anonymous Gambler