A Fancy Dress Party With Hyacinth Bucket and Friends

Well away from the toffs in the Royal Enclosure and the Paddock, and the wannabe toffs in the Grandstand Enclosure, there appears to be a fancy dress party going on. The theme might be Mother of the Bride, for this could be a large suburban wedding. The fancy but expensive five-star has been avoided in favour of the village hall, but they have put on a smashing spread with plenty to go round.

Welcome to the Silver Ring, which is to Ascot what the Hill is to the Derby. It is a vast grassland area on the two-furlong mark and they can squeeze in 75,000 on Gold Cup Day.

As it is cheaper and less formal than the other areas, some choose to dress casually but most make an effort. In fact this could be Hyacinth Bucket's big day out. The only pity is that Onslow and Daisy have come too and they appear to have brought all their mates.

Carmen Miranda and her mad milliner friends would not come near this place. Nor would Lt-Colonel Sir Gordon Carter, clerk of the course in 1911, who famously had his shoe laces ironed every day. But Eliza Doolittle would have had much more fun here, if only she had escaped the attentions of Rex Harrison and Wilfred Hyde White. The hats are more conservative, the dresses too (some are nice and stretchy and were made by Morgan). As for the shoes, it is difficult to say, for so many have been discarded; they are probably beside that plastic glass, half hidden under the picnic blanket. Style persists but it jostles with some badly dressed frumps.

The Burgers and Fries counter is doing slightly better business than the Wraps and Wedges while Bacardi Breezers are being bought more regularly than Pimm's, though the latter has been brought along in countless, swollen baskets.

Some are not watching the big-screen racing at all, others wave excitedly when the familiar drumbeat of hooves announces the passing of another race. Some sunbathe, others close to the Creative Tap bar and dance to a Chas and Dave soundalike team who bang out such familiar tunes as It's A Long Way to Tipperary and Bye Bye Blackbird. Absolutely no one has a pair of binoculars round his or her head.

"It's just a good day out and you can get pissed in the sun," says Ken Dunn from Birmingham. He noted an "even bigger" gathering this year, with the cheaper heath area closed for the first stage of the 20-month redevelopment that will see the meeting held at York next year.

"The Guardian did you say, love?" asks Tracey Cartwright a little warily. "That's no good for Big Brother. I get the Sun." Tracey and friends Helen Leech and Sally Turner all came down by coach from Lichfield in Staffordshire. "We left at 6.30 this morning and arrived six hours later," says Sally. "And there was no air conditioning."

Now and again they have a bet. "Two pounds to win but only if we recognise a name on the card," says Helen. "And we don't do hats."

"It will be better when it's at York," says Helen Salthouse (who is a Guardian reader) from Kent. "My son's up there and he doesn't realise there will be a number of us descending on him." Her friend, Gina Wilder, says: "I think I'm entitled to be here because I work for the Queen. Crown Estates. I won a couple of tickets in the raffle."

The Silver Ring happened in 1908. King Edward VII felt not enough was being done "for the comfort of the ordinary people". They called it the five-shilling stand. Yesterday it cost £18.

A notice reads: "There is no dress restriction in this area." There were hardly any clothes at all in some places. One pint of lager said: "If you want my advice mate you're better over by the lawn. You'll see the streakers better there."

You will certainly not see any top hat and tails here. If you do, he will have taken the wrong turning and be wearing an awful expression like that poor fellow in Bonfire of the Vanities.