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Every September in Australia the whole country stops at 3.20pm for two
minutes. Melbourne Cup Day. One of the biggest racing days in the year for
us Aussies. Everyone puts wagers on the winner, even people who normally
have no interest in horse racing can be seen around lunch time strutting
their stuff into the TAB to place their bets on horses they've never heard
of but have this 'feeling' about because of the name. All the ladies dress
up as if they were going to Royal Ascot, elaborate hats and all, despite
only lunching with the surrounding neighbours or at the local golf club.
Its a big day and it is almost a religion to do something on Melbourne Cup
day.
I was hob knobbing it to the local golf club with a
group of people and happened to drive by Paula's on the way. I'm convinced
somebody is staking my house and knows exactly when I start getting
fidgety in the backyard for more statues. Like the Sirens luring Ulysses,
this magnificent statue beckoned me to turn back. This one was quite a lot
bigger than my previous purchases but her stance and story of shame and
despair was one that appealed to me and I threw up my arms as I
looked at Paula and said "put her on the back seat". With
considerable difficulty
Paula,
her
husband
Joe
and I had quite a problem
negotiating the back door of the car to get her in. Using a store men's trolley and lots of muscle she was finally laid to rest in the car
and I took off for my Melbourne Cup lunch.

But what hat should she wear? Her first Melbourne
Cup!
As the day progressed and the luncheon and fashion
parade
was well underway, I began wondering how the hell I was going to get
this woman out of the car. She was full length across the backseat and
with the awkward angle the backdoor of a car takes, it wasn't something I
was relishing the thought of. I told the girls of my plight and a few
husbands/ virile sons were volunteered by their wives/mothers
respectively. With that settled I got back into horse racing mode and
studied the form guide, read all the tips, scoured the internet, rang the
bookies, bribed the jockeys etc., to find out just who was going to get my
$5 wager for a win? Jezebel.
Because I liked the name, and the images
it conjures up, of decadence and lust and sin and all those other tantalizingly
evil ways of a true 'Jezebel',
the
name
has
always
had a soft spot with me .

Jezebel
My 'still on the backseat with no Melbourne Cup
hat on' statue is frozen in a state of disgrace,
with her head bowed and hidden by her forearm as she realises
(or
perhaps
relishes)
her shameful
ways. A remorseful Jezebel? Doubt it, but the damn thing won and I
collected $45 so Jezebel she was and I vowed she bought me luck and I'd
take her to the next Melbourne Cup day with me. I lied. There's no way
she's budging from the spot she's in now as that turned out to be a comedy
of errors amongst virile husbands and sons.
After the racing fever had died down and all had gone
home, the three men arrived at my door to 'do the deed' - get the
naked Jezebel out of my car. Despite the fact that two of these men were
18 or thereabouts and the statue was a naked lady, everything was done
with great seriousness and intent, as the fear of dropping Jezebel (each
for their own reason) put fear into the hearts of us all. A particularly
tricky job it was getting three large men into the backseat to maneuver
and levitate her out. But they succeeded under my careful guidance and
direction. Through here, turn there, watch that step, mind the table etc.,
etc. As I watched these three men shuffle inch by inch through my house
out to the backyard, with such an air of serious business about them and
complete oblivion as to what they were carrying and what they looked like,
I broke up. One of those moments you curse not having any film in the
camera.
Jezebel made it safely outside and I allayed their fears of
me wanting her to
be
placed
at
the BACK of the pool where the others were. She was to stay at the
front. So after much moving her this way and that we all four decided on
exactly were she should stand in respect to those behind her. And there
she stays. She will not be coming to the Melbourne Cup with me this year,
I couldn't do that to the boys! But I will put a hat on her this time.
The next installment
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