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. 

The Melbourne Cup winning Jezebel
           

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 .

She, so far, is the biggest girl I've bought
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.

 

Click to see more
The next installment

Back to Start

Homepage

Visit the real Norman Lindsay pool

 

Email if you like

 If you prefer to skim the surface, use the site map below:

In the beginning...
Venus
Jezebel
Roses bloom on Venus
The White Wisteria (new)
The first statue - Lucy
Lily
Christmas
The Gazebo and me with my new bench
Cassandra
Cleopatra and Diana
Mike Rubbo, artist, paints the pool's portrait
The Girl with the jugs