Today it's Cup Day in Christchurch, a day that various websites rate as the biggest day in Christchurch's social calendar.
It's the giddy-ups doing the trots.
Hmmm, lets try that sentence again.
It's New Zealand Trotting Cup Day.
It's a day when about twenty-five thousand leap at the chance to put on their finest, flock to Addington where they will spend the day drinking in the sun and some will fail to see a race.
Although I have never been to the Christchurch races (I have been to many other race meetings), today is fantastic people-watching around town. Lots of frocked-up people milling about till about midday, then they disappear and by five o'clock they start to filter back in: generally speaking not as frocked up, women are sporting the first sunburn of the season and if their high heels aren't yet in their hands, some are starting to topple from them.
And call me 0800psychic, but I'm picking the front of tomorrow's paper will sport a shot of some twenty somethings who lost the plot around four, but won't realise how banjaxed they were until they see a snap of themselves tumbling from the front page.
Roll on five o'clock.