Goodwood Races

When people ask where I’m from it’s usually followed by a “LOL. WHERE!?”
Such is life when you don’t live in one of the major English cities!
One place that people have heard of in this charming little hometown of mine however, is Goodwood.

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There are two parts to Goodwood; the Motor Circuit and the Race Course.
The events at Goodwood Motor Circuit are filled with cars from every era and petrol heads alike,
whereas the events at Goodwood Racecourse are filled with horses, gamblers and fashionistas looking to take their latest garment out for a spin.

I had never been to Goodwood races before.
It always seemed like something I wouldn’t enjoy.
However, despite that, I’m a firm believer in trying (almost) everything once so when S rocked up with tickets to the races, I nipped in to town to find myself an outfit.

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Dress | Fascinator | Shoes | Cuff

Sunday rocked round and despite the miserable dark clouds that were roaming overhead the weather held out and we were off, transported by the craziest taxi driver I have ever had the sheer unfortunate luck of being driven by. Turning cars were dodged around, grass verges were driven on and pedals hit the floor as he drove at speeds that cars along country roads should never climb too.

At 2pm we arrived and with our feet on solid ground we went straight to the bar to settle our nerves.

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With Pimms.
Because yano, I’m English and stuff.

Humans of all sizes and ages had dressed up in their Sunday best ready to see what Goodwood had to offer. The race’s themselves were pretty small, due to it being the end of the season, with around 5-9 horses in each race. Which I actually preferred because it meant the horses had more space to run.

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Betters queued up, jockeys jested and horses chomped at their bits raring to go.
Soon they were off and as the horses pounded towards the finish line everyone watched eagerly anticipating whether their horses would bring home the bacon.

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And mine did… TWICE!

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Now if you’re looking for tips on how to win I’m afraid I really can’t help you because I pretty much just picked two horses with the coolest sounding names and bet a couple of quid on them to go each way. S laughed at my method, but lets face it. I won so clearly it works and wasn’t just a coincidence…

A few races later as my stomach began to grumble I realised S was nowhere to be seen.
I didn’t go to look for him because, Pimms. But also trying to find somebody in a suit when you’re in a sea of suits is pretty darn difficult. But two minutes later as the crowd dissipated I could see him.

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And as he came closer

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And closer

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And closer

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My love for him grew as I realised he had disappeared to get me some Pizza.

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Unfortunately it was more like cheesy dough than pizza because it had absolutely NO flavour, but if you forgot that you had ordered pizza and tried to imagine that you had ordered cheesy garlic bread without any garlic, then it was fine… Especially if you had skipped breakfast and been drinking.
(I didn’t do that mum, honest!)

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A quick stroll around the race course later and we realised we were hungry for food with flavour so we cut the races short and head off on a quest to find food.

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Would I go to Goodwood Races again?

I absolutely loved having a reason to get dressed up (because lets face it, when you’re not an A-Z lister opportunities are rare!) but I cannot get behind a sport that pushes animals to almost reach (and sometimes cross) their breaking point. I’ve grown up with horses throughout my childhood and whilst I understand that the jockey’s team have an understanding on what a horse can endure, I don’t believe that you should ever need to test that limit.

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What about you guys?
Have you ever been to Goodwood Races?
Competitive sport or cruel act? Let me know in the comments.
I’d love to hear (read!) your thoughts on this!