Working on a public holiday is always a little eerie. It’s like being at school on a Saturday. Nobody was on the train as I came in, and now that I’m here I wonder why I bothered... (money)... nothing’s really going on. A couple of calls, a few faxes, some emails left over from last night... There’s a bit of a festive air: everybody’s in casual clothes, there are lollies and chips on the table for us all, and they’ll be bringing in lunch for us from the pub later on. The only things missing are a barbeque and fireworks.

I can’t help but think of all the women in skimpy dresses and strappy shoes at the races today. They’ve all gone out and spent many many dollars on very little fabric; then Melbourne has shown a typical sense of occasion, and rained. Those women will be slowly turning blue, while I’m tucked up in my office. I am where I’d rather be.

I never quite “got” the hype over the Melbourne Cup. It’s a bunch of four-legged animals with men on their backs running very fast (the animals, not the men). For this event, which takes about five minutes, we get a public holiday.

I no complain, I get paid nicely for working!