High stakes

It's Melbourne Cup Day, which means we eat and drink at work and do not a great deal all day long, in the inimitable style of the public service. I think I've drawn every dud donkey in our sweeps.

I have had a rather successful history of Melbourne Cup punting, though. My primary school teacher was also a bookie. His idea of a maths lesson was to teach us about the fine art of horse racing. On a school excursion to Dubbo, he took a break along the way to take us to the Wellington Boot, a small town race day. It must have looked quite bizarre, a middle-aged bloke with a minibus and a couple dozen snotty kids trailing round behind him.

On Cup Day 1987 it was also my birthday, and I was feeling lucky, punk. In typical style, my teacher had organised some sweeps for us. We also had a little contest going, where we had to write down which horses we thought would come 1, 2, 3. And whaddya know? I got the trifecta! My teacher was gobsmacked, if only I'd placed that bet at the TAB, I would have been freaking rich. Instead, I won a hamburger.