Pain in the Royal Ascot

We woke up a little groggy on Day 3, thanks to Jackie, er I mean Joan, Collins and the likes of Angus, Chris and Phil. But having a fresh "hot tip" that Sir Richard might be at Royal Ascot, we got up bright and early. The best way to describe Royal Ascot would be the British version of the Kentucky Derby. Only with the Queen and a lot more pomp and circumstance, yet with the same level of crowd drunkeness.

We were politely and not-so-politely informed prior to the event that we would need to be "kitted out" for it. In other words we were the riff-raff and needed to be cleaned up - we were advised to go to Moss Bros. to rent formalwear, which was a great tip. A couple of hours later, Norm, Chris our cameraman, and I emerged with tuxes, tails and top hats. It was like "Pretty Woman" without having to sleep with Richard Gere. And suddenly I felt that I just might have the ability to talk to the animals.

On we went to the train station and then on to Ascot. We had secured tickets through concierge extraordinaire Paula. But when we arrived we were informed that we couldn't bring the camera in, so I inquired about a press pass. Amazingly, somehow on the spot we talked our way into getting 3 press passes and were allowed into the event. Gullible or nice or both, gotta love the British high society.

Enjoyed the races. Followed an insider tip on one of the races to bet on Rose Blossom. Thought it would be exciting, so we placed a bet. Horse racing is less exciting when your "can't lose" horse is a lap behind all the other horses. We were convinced the insider tip was just to spur more betting on the race. Gullible or nice or both, gotta love Americans spending money to fit in.

Highlight of the trip was the sing-along. Thousands of drunken British singing "Daydream Believer" followed by "God Save the Queen". Not sure who put the set list together, but whoever it was knows how to rock. Chris was filming and a very nice high society lady whipped out her breast for the camera. "British Girls Gone Wild" will not be in stores any time soon, but it certainly added a nice touch to end the day. Alas, while we did not run into Richard Branson at least we saw some skin.

An even better end of the day was a phone call from Monica just outside of LA, a call from a London man, and an email from Julie from Boston -- all with more leads to Sir Richard Branson. Decided to follow the lead to where Branson lives and to explore the Oxford area tomorrow. Having unsuccessfully talked to animals, we decided to return the tuxes and top hats.