His mudda was a mudder.

Okay, Melbourne Cup.

Who cares?!

I've never scored the winning horse in the Melbourne Cup. And the one time I did it was traumatic. I always get some nag who falls across the line five days later, and I'm not too worried about that. I can relate.

I remember being in my Grade 3 sweeps (of course, no money changed hands - that we kiddies knew about) and getting...well, some old nag who fell across the line five days later...and the most popular girl in the school drew the favourite, Gold and Black, which went on to win. And this petite, blonde haired creature got all the accolades as was her due. It seemed the natural order of things.

Then in 1979, Grade 5, I scored a horse weirdly called Hyperno and the most popular girl in the school - different girl, different school - got the favourite, Dulcify. So far, so good. But then there was an accident on the track and Dulcify was knocked out of the race and had to be put down and Hyperno went on to win!! Except precious little good it did me as every one gathered around the most popular girl who was weeping and gave her solace and shot filthy looks my way as though:

(1) each of us had long-established, personal relationships with our respective horses and therefore were entitled to outpourings of emotion and deserving of being reviled; and
(2) Dulcify was a certainty to win. Let's face it, it was a neck and neck race between Hyperno and Salamander at the finish so it may not have been quite such a doddle for Dulcify.

But try telling that to an angry, ten-year-old mob.

I was ignored for all morning recess. Or perhaps it was lunch?

The bitter taste lingers on. Children can be so cruel. So cruel.