again, yes, I know. Seems there are plenty of opportunity to don the frock, heels and fascinator out here in the bush, and I am not one to turn away from a chance to dress up. Not being alone, fashions out here could and would rival Flemington.
Melbourne Cup, of course, next week, so there has been much perusing of wardrobes and wondering how long one might stand to wear a certain pair of gorgeously uncomfortable pair of shoes. This year we have the choice of celebrating the race that stops the nation at a property down the road (the hosts having thrown previous Melbourne Cup galas in their large shady garden) or more intimately, but with just as much style, down the road the road at the pub. The kids, ever the ones for an eye for a day of school (and the girls, a chance to dress up themselves) are understandably, pushing for going out of town.
We've got some cattle work to do between now and Race Day, which is more than enough to burst one's bubble, given the hot dry days we are having (no such thing as early storms in these parts!)...from Rolling in Cow Poo, to Race Day Finery...now there's a contrast.]
I'll be back to share those adventures soon.