TDN Weekend

TDN Weekend January 2018

TDN Weekend December 2016 Issue 9

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Page 86 of 101

Monday morning before the race. Draped in the flags of the numerous nations on the team – the French and German tricolors, the Union Jack, the Austra- lian ensign with the Southern Cross – and wearing electric turquiose polo shirts emblazoned to Julian's design, we frolicked in front of the gathered thou- sands shouting, 'When I say Crême, you say Brûlée – Crême (Brûlée), Crême (Brûlée),' and similar with everything else we could think of in French: Côte (du Rhône), Côte (du Rhône)… Cham (pagne), Cham (pagne)… Thanks to that Long Night of the Desserts, the chanting developed a decidely sweet-tooth. When I say Tarte, you say Tatin. We might have been the first to attempt to rally the public with the pa- tissier's craft since Marie Antoinette's 'Let them eat cake!' Onwards and downwards. Despite it all, we brushed up well enough for one of our number to win Best Dressed man at our fancy hotel's raceday reception. I won't mention who. Suffice it to say it wasn't any of the others. And then the race, and the revelling. Quite a lot of photos were taken jumping in the air and shouting Up For The Cup. It's funnier when you're fuelled entirely by rosé. Did we win, did we lose? What happened next? Well, the movie ends with Tiberian striking the front and defying all-comers all the way up the long Flemington stretch, with Julian wearing his moth- er's tie while at last cradling a golden trophy, with Heiko making a surreptitious visit to a bookmaker's till, with Stefan leading one more chorus of Son Of A Teaser, Man (oh, yes: now with its own Gangnam- style dance), with the toothiest of grins hanging like bunting across Alain Couetil's face... As I was saying, suspend disbelief. Come on, Tiberian!

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