Aunty for love.

The other day I was digging about, pretending to spring clean. I found these glorious images drawn by my friend’s little girl. Let’s call the friend Tamara, and let’s call her little girl Davida. The drawings were done when she was five. So she was little then, and she is always likely to be little to me. Story goes that a few of the girls were visiting Tamara, laughing up a storm, drinking copious cups of tea and downing the odd scone. Tamara is an artist, so... Read More

Race Bombing

I am now considered somewhat of a phantom owner in the racing fraternity. I don’t own a horse, nor do I lease one but my friends do and I love going to watch.  It’s perfect – no fees, no trainer stories, no bets (not mandatory ones anyway) and all the fun. My friends are very generous and get ‘owner’ tickets for me, and ‘happy to oblige’ husband Peter, to accompany them.  Off we go into the Moonee Valley members for drinks, then into the owners... Read More