Saturday night fever

Invited to a Labour party on Election night at Reg(ina) Graycar's - a friend of Jane, a friend of Pat and Sandy... so it goes in oz - I was fascinated how long it took everyone to believe they were actually going to win (after 11 years out) and that the eminently depisable Howard was for the butcher (as MP as well as PM). The bookies (the only poll worth looking at) had the ALP 'home and hosed' and from the first returns it was obvious to all but the faint-hearted that it was going to be a landslide (or Ruddslide as it became known here)... and that (racing metaphors always come to mind on this blog) 'you could put away your glasses' (binoculars). Eventually much bubbly was consumed with unalloyed joy, with the consequence that I was asked to drive since my licence was perceived to be less valuable or maybe less at risk. Strange car, strange city, but I done well (or was that just the bubbly?). Home from the party in time (1 am here) to turn on the Slingbox and watch Prince Djo running at Lyon. Off 25m he never really got into the race, was forced wide round the final turn and finished 8th. But next day (not on TV) I see that the other Prince (des Baux) ran a nice third at Amiens.