I\'m Countess Ski - that stands for Spending the Kids

Tag : Ski Hats

The country used to stop for the Ascot Gold Cup. St Simon's20-length victory in 1884 passed into legend and gave him equineimmortality, his skeleton being preserved in London's NaturalHistory Museum. Now, for the average punter, "the Gold Cup" meansCheltenham in March, and for some of them Ascot's marathon is justan anachronism.
"The prestige of the race isn't what it was in the 1930s," said onebookmaker at Royal Ascot yesterday, Scott Thomson. "It still meanssomething to us, but not to the ordinary people who come. For themit's more about fashion." He points resignedly to the big screenwhere a woman in a large, windswept hat is talking gushingly aboutAscot's unique appeal.
Gold Cup day is also Ladies' Day - the climax of the meeting forthe fashionistas. Ladies' Day has no official status, but there issomething special about it. The trains are full, the champagneflows early, the bookies are taking bets on the colour of theQueen's hat (a conservative sky-blue, dishing a plunge on red). Thedie-hards say that, post redevelopment, Ascot isn't what it was.But on Ladies' Day, it almost is.
It is also a big day for the bowler-hatted stewards. "People tendto go a bit wild on Ladies' Day," one old retainer confides,"especially down in the Silver Ring. A couple of years ago therewas one lady plying her trade down there in a stretch limo, andquite a queue was forming."
The bookies also have to be on their mettle on this particular day."It can be dangerous," says Ronald Hall. "The ladies tend to latchon to a horse because of its name, and if it wins at 33-1 you cando your money." He was keeping a weather eye on Love Galore in the4.20.
In the Silver Ring, some robust-looking stewards - no bowler hatshere, only shaven heads and luminous yellow jackets - are alsolooking out for love galore. With a pop concert in full swing andthe patch of grass that serves as a dance floor full by 3pm, it ismore than a possibility. Back at the posh end of the course - Ascotis the British class system made manifest - is a group of 10identically dressed women who are quaffing champagne.
Who are they? The Red Hat Society from Devon, and no understatedsky-blue for them. They style themselves the "Devonshire Dumplings"and are devoted to fun and mild misbehaviour. "The WI bake cakes,"says one. "We eat them."
Introductions are effected. "I'm Countess Ski," says IngridMaunder, from Germany. "Ski stands for Spending the Kids'Inheritance." Why are they here? "For the Gold Cup, of course." Themocking smile hints that she is being satirical.
Ah yes, the Gold Cup. Here, surely, is a chance for the grand oldrace to encourage the hat obsessives to toss their unstablecreations into the air and we are relying on the favourite, Yeats.Only one horse in the history of the race - Sagaro in the 1970s -had managed a three-timer. For Yeats, a veteran at seven, thefabled door of greatness is swinging on its hinge.
The Natural History Museum has not taken in any equine skeletonssince the 1930s. Could Yeats stake his claim to join St Simon,transcending horse flesh?
At the off, Yeats' price has been clipped from 13-8 to 11-8. "Itseems too well backed," says one old bookie. He's counting histakings, but sensing he won't be holding them for long. "There'sbeen some support for Coastal Path, but it's still Yeats who'sgoing to cost us the money."
The race is extraordinary. From the betting ring you can barely seethe course and have to watch the big screen. Yeats lobs along infourth, and as he moves up to third half a mile out, the crowdresponds with the closest Ascot comes to a roar. Even the henparties start to take an interest.
A furlong out, Yeats looks beaten; the best he can manage, surely,is third. History is on hold. But he summons one last effort, andbeats off first Coastal Path and then Geordieland. The womanstanding beside me, who has backed the second, locks me in anembrace. "Fucking Yeats! I fancied him, but his odds were too low."Surely the expletive is meant affectionately?
"You can see why people get addicted," says a lady whose head iscrowned by a substantial fascinator, as the crowd goes off to greetthe winner. Ascot is about to crown its very own fascinator, andthe Natural History Museum may one day need to find some extraspace.