Dog racing

This was a new experience for me -- I've never been greyhound racing before. (A couple of my nice colleagues arranged it for one of their leaving do's.) There's something entrancing about all that darkness and space outside of the grandstand, and the intense detail of the foreground, illuminated by the floodlights. Add some blown snow swirling in the floodlights, and there's a really compelling backdrop for the action.

Other positive features (at least at the Oxford Stadium) are: decent food at a reasonable price; a table full of positive spirits (even if they did relentlessly take the piss out of my selections and continual betting failures); and a very civilised mixed clientele -- couples, families, works' outings, girls' nights out. A very relaxing way to spend 3-4 hours. There's also something engaging about all those dogs, fulll of life and energy and variety, racing after that feeble facsimile of a hare in the bright lights - something very simple and intimate and exciting.

Hmm. I'm starting to sound like a municipal promotional brochure...it was good, though -- and I came home with a bit of cash -- miraculous.

After my considerate and trustworthy 'designated driver' (thanks Sal - much appreciated) dropped me off at the top of my icy-looking road, I walked gingerly down the slope. There were a few slippery tyre tracks on the frost-/snow-dusted tarmac, and the orange streetlights reflected in multiple glittery facets on the pavement. Meandering down the slope, full of lager, garlic mushrooms, roast lamb, and chocolate torte, I felt happy and contented. The icy air was invigorating on my cheeks and ample bare forehead (eat your heart out, William Hague). The sky was hazy, a few stars and the bright moon between the clouds.

If it was Friday as well, I'd be feeling sooooo blissfull. 8o)

Now I must drowse...