I got to go to the Grand Prix today, with some work people. They gave me a T-shirt with one of our brand logos on it to wear. It was a size medium. A men’s medium. It could have fitted me and one of the dogs quite easily. So I pawed through the box and found a mistaken order – a kid’s size large. Thank you very much – that will do nicely. And when I got to the Grand Prix all the other women, in their oversized men’s polo shirts, looked at me enviously. Little did they know I had been formally identified as a large child.
The Grand Prix is not a bad day, even for someone like me who is only peripherally interested in cars. It was a gorgeous day and there was lunch and free drinks and an excellent view of the track. We went for a wander after lunch and nearly got run over by any number of official golf carts, obviously driven by repressed racecar drivers inspired by their high-octane surroundings. There were lots of races – the formula 1 practices, the celebrity challenge practices, the old racecars and the V8 supercars. There were probably more but they blended together after a while. Fun day. Although the tram home lacked some of the speed and cornering ability I had come to expect.
Oh ho ho, I am witty, no?
