Today was Melbourne Cup Day. According to the newspaper headlines, a record attendance was dependent on the weather. Melbourne, true to form, had a warm and sunny, if slightly windy morning to lure all the ladies in their best dresses and heels and the gentlemen in their suits to the racecourse, then proceeded to dump an enormous amount of rain on them and blow a freezing gale. I live very close to the racecourse, and I swear that I’ll go to the Cup one day. All the revellers make the area very festive anyway.

I eschewed the pleasure of standing in the mud watching horses, and took the train out to woop-woop to have lunch with the lovely Marion, who is in the thick of her assessment work. My line is on the way to the racecourse, and there were trains going past every three minutes, packed with people in fancy dresses and suits. After lunch, a short walk, and a bit of a snog, I left Marion to her German assignment and dropped into a TAB (a betting place) to contribute $10 to the prize pool and backed Distinction, who came sixth. My usual effort is of the calibre of She’s Archie, who got injured and walked in last by a long way.

After that I got on the train and walked through the rain to a second birthday party, of a boy who was with us on our overseas jaunt. He was in good form, as always. He’s the son of Gillian, who is in the choir. Gillian’s friend Josephine was also there. Gillian and her friend Pip had a combined 40th and 50th birthday party last year. I came along dressed as Harry Potter (sans much hair) as Eden wanted to be Hermione. My triumph of the evening was a Neal Diamond/Meatloaf- inspired karaoke version of Wind Beneath my Wings, sung to Pip. Little did I know that this was not the only interest I had generated that evening...

A couple of years before, I had participated in Spencer Tunick’s big 4000-person naked photo shoot one very cold October morning. I had run into Josephine there, who is a good flute player, and who had been playing for a show I had performed in. We chatted quite a bit and posed for the photo in the article (but we were right up the back). That was all dandy. Overseas, when Gillian had had a couple of drinks (rare for the mother of a two-year-old), it came out that when I arrived at the party, Josephine had said (very excitedly) “That’s Josquin... do you know him? He’s very well endowed!”

Thus, a reputation was born. A reputation I was unaware of. It explained why Gillian had to restrain from Josephine from jumping me that night (according to Gillian). It would also explain why Pip had the hots for me for so long. At the time I was tickled to be lusted after simultaneously by a 40-year-old and [another] 20-year-old.

The thing that makes this situation so amusing is that it’s a reputation that’s difficult to confirm or dissipate without resorting to unconventional methods. Personally, as a swimmer, I’ve seen enough ummmm.... ‘donkeys’ (and ‘wieners’) in change rooms to imagine that I’m pretty much average, though I suppose the donkey fellas may be more inclined to flaunt their assets. The only other feedback I’ve had is that Narelle said she was surprised (positively) at its size (because I’m a tenor maybe? ☺), whatever that meant. Not that it’s a reputation I’ll be working hard to dissipate. If you liked these three paragraphs, you may want to try here.

Back at Flinders Street Station, there was a race train on Platform 2. That’s very unusual. It turned out that more conventional Platform 8 was unavailable because someone had been hit by a train. The body was already covered with plastic. Though I didn’t get any Kareninesque flashes of horror or premonitions, I imagine several people are having a very difficult night tonight. My thoughts go out to them.

Here’s an interesting entry I’ve been reading by .

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