Olie, being a man of his word, was up bright and early. 7:30am! I agreed to leaving at 9am which means sleeping until at least 8:30am, but apparently what Ollie didn't disclose last night was that leaving for the track meant leaving Bojangle's for the track not leaving the house for the track, which would include a stop for biscuits on the way. It's worse than dealing with my father who prides himself on being able to get one over on people purely through semantics. It is the kind of thing you can't even get upset about, because you are the fool who didn't ask the right questions upfront and assumed that you were dealing with a normal, rational human being.

It was still early when we got to The Galway Hooker, affectionately called "the Hooker", so there were plenty of tables around when we arrived. Ben and Ollie, who seemed to be the only ones who already knew everyone, pushed several tables together while the rest of us were "passing the 'Hello'". (I stole that term from Emma, who says meeting a whole group of people was like "passing the Peace" at church. You all smile politely, greeting and wishing each other well, but barely remembering whose hand you just shook when it is all over.)