The Homely Atmosphere of the Point- to- Point 



" RACE Cards a Shilling ! Race Cards ! " The sooner 

 one makes a purchase and displays it conspicuously the 

 sooner will the running-boards of one's car be relieved 

 of a swarm of clamouring race-card vendors. After the 

 past half-hour's enquiries and anxieties in a maze of 

 strange boreens, one need no longer have any doubts 

 about being on the right road as one trickles into a 

 stream of motor-cars, lorries, horse-drawn vehicles, 

 cyclists and pedestrians. Soon the first of the com- 

 petitors heaves into sight. Evidently a local entry; well- 

 shod hooves stepping daintily along on the grass margin, 

 neatly-monogrammed rugs flapping to the rhythmic 

 swing of powerful quarters, intelligence peeping through 

 the red-bound eyeholes of his fawn hood and the art 

 of the expert showing in the fastidious neatness of his 

 plaited tail. 



Nearing the entrance to the car-park one hands five 

 shillings to a cheery steward and receives in return a 

 parking-ticket and the giver's good-humoured instruc- 

 tions that by keeping well to the left, inside the gate, 

 there is less chance of having the car bogged. At the 

 entrance, traffic conditions are prevented from becoming 

 chaotic by the skilful manipulations of an over-wrought 



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