When I announced to my American neighbour that I was going to Ascot for the first time in 20 years, she grabbed me by the arm as if I had just announced that I was running off with the gardener. Apparently Ascot and the Royal Enclosure have changed beyond recognition since the latest refurb and there is much to learn.
‘Which day are you going?’ she asked wildly, as I muttered something about Ladies Day. She turned around in shock, hand over mouth. If she were Hyacinth Bucket from Keeping Up Appearances, I was her nervous friend Elizabeth who spills her tea all over her saucer, shaking like a leaf. ‘We don’t have much time,’ she cried in no particular direction.
When she learned about my proposed outfit, she went pale. A 20-year-old fascinator from House of Fraser, open-toed sandals that I had bought on Vinted and a dress that was ten years old? Words failed for a moment before she asked: did I not know that a hat – not a fascinator – has to be at least four inches in base diameter?
After studying the ‘Royal’ Ascot website, I was duly instructed to call my sister who co-owns Beulah London and my friend Laura Cathcart who makes stunning hats. Once the outfit was sorted, I casually mentioned that I would potter down to Ascot after the school run around 9.30 a.m. ‘You will do no such thing,’ my neighbour said. Arriving by train was also out – too crowded and very ‘lower class’ on the return journey. ‘The glamour fades in relation to the alcohol consumed,’ I was told. Sounds a bit like me but I kept schtum.
Since the train had been ruled out (my neighbour said I should hire a chauffeur for the day) it was agreed that the children would be flung into the breakfast club at school while we hotfooted it down the M25. My neighbour kept referring to it as ‘As-cottt’ with the emphasis on the second syllable. I hadn’t the heart to tell her that those in the know pronounce this ‘Ascut’.
I was soon sent a plethora of messages about where to book ‘luncheon’. There were still spaces at the Parade Ring or The Panoramic restaurant, but I would have to be quick as ‘availability was low’. When I looked on the website, I nearly spilled my tea all over again: the cost of lunch was as much as £4,158 per person. Of course it cost so much, I was told – what did I expect if I wanted a view of royalty, Moët and Chandon on tap and petit fours for afternoon tea? I tried to explain that we were meeting friends at the White’s tent but this was lost on her. ‘Oh all the tents are white, you have to go to the right one,’ she insisted. If I really couldn’t afford a ‘premium’ lunch of her suggestion, I would have to make do with the Sandringham restaurant, though it is ‘full of American tourists’ and is half the price of the decent restaurants. ‘What do you expect if you are served charcuterie and canapes instead of a five-course meal?’ she huffed.
It was smaller and simpler in the 90s when the White’s tent and the Pimms tent were pretty much the only hospitality on offer
By this point, it was clear that I was dreaming of Ascot 20 years ago. It was smaller and simpler in the 1990s when the White’s tent and the Pimms tent were pretty much the only hospitality on offer. But this nostalgia was clearly lost on my neighbour who thought it all sounded rather tedious to say the least. Oh well, I told her, we had a lovely picnic in Car Park 1 which is still the smart place to park and picnic – though it is said that all the fun happens in Car Park 2 where the jockeys, trainers and media hang out.
When I mentioned Car Park 2, my neighbour shivered. But she perked up when she remembered the notion of a ‘Wheely’, which is the official Ascot chauffeur service that picks you up from your house and delivers you to the action. I was told that I must download the app to book and that I can be fast-tracked into the Royal Enclosure from an exclusive drop-off point. Just as I was about to drop this whole Ascot endeavour altogether, my neighbour announced that she had decided she would come to keep me company and ‘show me the ropes’. A Wheely chauffeur has been booked so that we won’t have to ‘embarrass ourselves on the train or by driving’. The only fly in the ointment is that she has checked herself in for a five-course luncheon so we won’t be dining together after all. Not so sporting after all.
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