Racing down under

I booked my flights to Australia on a whim a few months ago. The temporary two year move from Plymouth to Sydney by one of my old school friends was the perfect excuse to head down under and the rest of the trip was shaped by many suggestions from others who have lived or currently live here. My horse racing mad godfather and his wife got incredibly excited when they discovered I was to be in Australia over the world famous Melbourne Cup week and so another chunk of the trip fell into place. After a few days spent acclimatising to the 11hr time difference, I left Sydney and headed south to the metropolitan city of Melbourne. The hype surrounding the Melbourne Cup had been evident in Sydney and as soon as I landed in the host city, I knew I was in for a treat.

The majority of my race going experiences have been at local point to points. I have had the occasional experience of dressing up for the races attending Royal Ascot and the Grand National but nothing quite prepared me for the outfits seen on Cup Day in Melbourne. Packing weeks in advance in the chilly UK, it was hard to predict what outfit would be most suitable so I sought advice from the official website and "dress to impress" was all the advice I could find. I discovered the Australian interpretation of this guidance was somewhat different to my own - the outfits were as much a feast for the eyes as the enthralling racing itself.

My only regret of the whole day was not supporting our Cornish neighbours at the bookies. It was a historic day as the 100-1 Prince of Penzance galloped to Cup victory ably ridden by the first ever female winning jockey.

Awkward timing

I will openly admit that after England's early exit I became quite fluid as to my choice of team to support during the remainder of the Rugby World Cup. Initially I moved on to Georgia after my frequent visits to Eastern Europe this summer; fully aware that even though they played gutsy rugby they were unlikely to make it out of the group stages. I then felt that as a Brit I should select a home nation. Scotland were a worthy choice and I certainly felt for our northern neighbours but no one showed their emotion quite as openly as Argentina. I am sure I was not alone in admiring their performance against Ireland and cheering them on against Australia.

That lead us to the final between the New Zealand All Blacks and the Australian Wallabies. According to BBC Sport over eighty percent of people had predicted the All Blacks to win and I was one of those. That did not mean I had pledged to support the rugby Kings and I was struggling to choose where my allegiance lay. My great grandfather was a Kiwi and I was keen to see New Zealand make history by winning back to back World Cups. That said, there was the one small fact that swayed it - I was in Australia when the match was being played.

Secretly I wanted to see the Wallabies in the final as I hoped I would be able to enjoy the pre World Cup final hype on the other side of the world. Sadly there proved to be more advertisements for the upcoming Bond film than the World Cup. Originally I had planned to head out and embrace the occasion in a bar but that was before I realised the kick off was 3am local time. I felt obliged to get up and watch it although crawling downstairs in my pyjamas won over a drunken early morning trip to the pub.