On the first Tuesday in November 1964, a sublime intuition guided me to favour Polo Prince but, worrying that Elkayel might be a threat, I covered my back with an each way bet. Logic suggested a Polo Prince/Elkayel quinella, but the Flemington crowds were daunting so I didn't bother. Needless to say, Polo Prince scored, just holding off Elkayel.
Some Melbourne Cup days are like that, etched into the memory for one reason or another. Tuesday 5 November 1996 was one of those for me. I was working at London University, saddling up (sorry!) to give the annual Sir Robert Menzies Lecture. Through the mists of the years it all comes back to me.
On the preceding Thursday, at morning tea I mention to an English colleague that I'm giving a lecture on Tuesday, 5 November, in London University's Chancellors Hall. The ensuing conversation is dispiriting.
'The lecture's on Henry Lawson and Manning Clark', I tell him in answer to his polite enquiry.
'Henry Law — I'm afraid I —'
'No, you wouldn't have heard of him. Great Australian writer.'
'And Manfred —?'
'Manning,' I tell him patiently. 'It's Manning Clark. Famous historian.'
'I don't think I —'
'Monumental six volume history of Australia. The lecture's on Melbourne Cup Day. Could be an omen.'
'Melbourne Cup?'
'I'm backing Grey Shot', I flounder on desperately. 'English horse. Foreign raider as they say at home. Front runner. They send the English horses over Business Class on British Airways. Don't worry about it.'
Brooding on this demoralising conversation the following day, I start to fret. What if everybody's like my colleague? Suddenly I realise that, apart from a few stray Aussies, no one will know anything — anything — about Lawson or Clark. The lecture will be a disaster.
Meanwhile, Grey Shot blows out to 50s and my Melbourne collaborator prepares to move.
On Saturday, I'm up at 5.00am to help my wife set off to a conference in Amsterdam. This leaves me an uninterrupted weekend to prune and tune the lecture. I begin with a large breakfast heavy on eggy, fatty and greasy items that my wife does not normally consider essential to starting the day. Then a purposeful stroll, thinking always of Lawson and Clark, brings me to the Panton street cinema where I take in Fargo.
After Fargo, a brisk walk punctuated by a swift pint gets me back in front