No roller, no top hat action. The only sign of activity was that Wetherspoons was busier than usual.
Proceeded to 'Ye Olde Kings Head' in Church Street, traditionally the last station before making the push up the hill. Also busier than usual, but we were now getting some signs of racing action. Some dressing up. The promise of feeding all day, should that be what we wanted - and at this point we thought that this would be what we wanted, but later.
Made the push up the hill to the 'Derby Arms', busy but not packed. Security presence not as conspicuous as I had been led to believe by the taxi driver from the night before, the day of the Oaks. See reference 1. As well as drinks and barbecue, the 'Derby Arms' was offering a set meal for which it had quite a few takers, mostly in fancy dress, that is to say fancy suits, dresses with slits and holes in interesting places and lots of hats. But not so many that they could not offer us a good table, with a good view of the action.
Set meal rather overpriced for what it was by regular standards, but portions were good and price was fair enough considering it was pretty much opposite the entrance to the racecourse on the big race day. What was advertised as Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand turned out to be from Romania, name of Umbrele, estate bottled. Said by google to be 'fresh, crisp and dry with vibrant fruit on the palate. Well balanced flavours with a lovely long and fresh aftertaste' - and to cost maybe one fifth of what we paid. A bit strong, but not unreasonable in the circumstances.
Wound up with a tart tatin for pudding, which I learned was a foreign version of our own upside down cake, that is to say cooked with pastry up and apple down, and turned back over to serve. In this case with plenty of white (possibly crème fraîche) and brown (sugary apple purée) goo. Which worked quite well, as I did the tart and BH did the goo. A tart which I had had often enough before - Café Rouge, for example, do a not very good one - without twigging the upside down angle.
Mainly young female staff, very tired after a long shift the day before. They got into a right muddle with our bill, but the young man who was floor manager had the presence and manners to get it all sorted out without fuss. Ten out of ten to him.
The people next to us were a cheerful party down from up north, with at least one of them coming from Newcastle. Getting through rather more wine than we managed. Reasonably fancy dress. Down on the day, set to go back the day following.
Out to admire all the posh and not-so-posh race goers outside the first class entrance, and so onto the bus stop. Not got the stamina to actually do the races, up in the DSS enclosure on the hill, any more.
We caught a real bus, possibly a Routemaster, threatening to charge us a fiver each or something for the trip back down to the station, but failing to make the charge as the official with the ticket machine had gone missing.
So after say twenty years continuous attendance, then absence last year, noticed at reference 2, we score half marks for this year. Got up there, but didn't get in. Home in time for BH to catch the big race on the box.
PS: not a gipsy to be seen all day. Sometimes a nuisance, but a full and proper part of Derby Day.
Reference 1: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2017/06/smith-square.html.
Reference 2: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2016/06/an-emotional-occasion.html.
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