racy

racy
Yesterday we went to the races; it was fun dressing up and sitting in the sun with champagne flute and delicate nibbles in hand. The sun was out, the food was excellent, the grass was cut, and nobody was too disgraceful in their behaviour (apart from the other marquee attempting to acquire our alcohol by disgraceful means).

I got up the nerve to tell one of the ladies in the marquee next to us that her maxi-dress was absolutely gorgeous. It was bright yellow satin with splashes of peacock colours all over it, glitzy pieces at the waistband, spaghetti straps and a fitted bodice.
It was fun.
This morning I woke up half an hour early, simply because I couldn't breather through my hayfever-affected blocked nostrils. Deciding to get up instead of lying around aimlessly, I made breakfast and read my novel until it was time to go. Wiping my streaming red eyes I jumped into my car which then wouldn't start, so I rode to work (as I do every other day anyway; I just happened to want to drive to work today for practical purposes) instead (swearing all the way). Huffing into the car park to the bike racks, I realized with a jolt that I'd left my lunch at home. As I walked into the building I did a mental inventory of my bag's contents and found my gym towel missing.
What else could go wrong?
As it turned out, the day only got better. Ward round was really good (apart from a spontaneous little bleed about two hours after I blew my nose in frustration), and we finished (for once) in time for me to scoot upstairs to the weekly education meeting where there is food provided. Half an hour later, happily full, I walked back down to my station and got stuck into it. Here I am ten minutes to knockoff time, all my work done, knowing I will get to Combat on time, and I can't help but smile. It's been a good day and it'll be a good evening after all.