Last weekend, I went off to Caldarium MCC's Hex-Rated Rally at Arncott, near Bicester. I decided to make a proper trip of it, and set off on Thursday morning to visit a mate in Gloucestershire, had dinner there and then carried on to another mate's place in Oxford and got fed there too. Must do this more often, cos they're both better cooks that I am. Cheers lads!
Friday morning, I sat about and read for a while whilst my host was working, and then when he got back, I repacked my bike, he packed his and we set off for the rally.
I felt a bit weird when I got there. Although I've done lots of rallies on my own in the past, this was the first one since I ditched the Slave, and I got a bit maudlin and stood there like a pillock for a while, staring at my bike and considering going home. Anyway, shortly afterwards, I had a bit of help getting my tent up and then I went a-wandering cos I was feeling like a spare part. Half an hour later, my mate Hairy Stores arrived and I cheered up immensely. Over the next few hours, several other mates turned up and I was glad I hadn't bottled out and gone home. I bought myself a new tankard to replace the one that Lumpy sat on, so a few hours and a few beers later, I was having a whale of a time. It was getting a bit cold by midnight and I was glad of the brazier, but when I went off to bed, I was bloody freezing, even though Weevil had given me one of those foil survival blanket thingies to put under my sleeping bag. I didn't sleep too well, cos I kept getting cramp in my legs, so I got up at about 5.30am and discovered it was actually warmer outside my tent than it was in it.
Saturday morning, Reverend said he had to nip home for something, so I said I'd accompany him cos I needed some cash, seeing as I'd blown my budget on the tankard. Whilst back at his place, I did something I've never, ever done whilst away at a rally... I had a bath. Oh the shame! However, seeing as I don't actually have a bath in my house, it was a rather special treat. We then went off into Oxford for cash and summat to eat.
When we got back to the rally site, Bungle introduced me to the lads from 'Domine de Mortis' (jolly nice chaps too) and I sat with them and my mate Angus for a bit, before going outside to watch the egg roulette. Poor Tufty, who was officiating, also managed to get covered.
Mid-evening, was the Mr. Hex-Rated contest, which caused something of a stir. Eight hapless contestants were dressed up, and then interrogated, prodded and measured before being asked to perform a pole dance for the judges. I fear that some of the judges may never recover. Unbeknown to me, Bungle had been plotting, and at the end of the contest, the winner was coerced into performing a special 'dance' for me, so I was plonked into a chair and sat there doing a very good impression of a beetroot. All those who took part were brilliant and I take my hat off to the lot of them. Cheers Bungle. I think :p
I spent the rest of the evening gassing with folk (and being gassed by Ever Ready's farts) round the brazier and later on in the barn, before heading off to bed in the early hours. Angus had had to leave the rally on Saturday evening, and had sold me his tent, so I had a choice, but seeing as all my stuff had been dumped in the big one, I decided it was too much like hard work to transfer it. It's a smaller tent than my current one, and I can put it up on my own. This time I slept like a bloody log and woke up quite refreshed.
On Sunday morning, I had a lovely surprise, cos Hairy Stores had bought me a birthday prezzie - he was the only person to remember, and he got me a fantastic hip flask with a celtic engraving on it. I was quite touched; it's a lovely prezzie and I shall treasure it. It's got Otard brandy in it at the moment.
I didn't really want to leave the rally, but I had to go, cos I was due to meet my pals from Scotland in the afternoon, ready to set off for Kent on Monday. I even remembered to pack down the second tent! It pissed down on the way home, and at one point, visibility was down to about 40 yards, which was rather scary, cos loads of cagers didn't even bother to slow down. Somehow, I've managed to lose my neck tube, so all the rain went straight down my neck, and drenched my back and my chest. Even after it had stopped raining, it was windy, so I was bloody freezing by the time I got home, and all the dye had leached from my jacket onto my neck. It took me ages to scrub it clean. I even had the energy to hose down the bike to get all the crap off it. OK, not all of the crap, but some of it, at least.
It's 24 December, so I hereby formally announce that you are now allowed to mention the 'C' word. Yep, Christmas!
There's something about Bryan Josh's guitar playing that transports me to a different place. I can just close my eyes and float away on the music. It's reminicent of Dave Gilmour, but played with a passion that is most definitely Bryan's own. I don't know if he saw me at the foot of the stage, but I was the one standing there with my jaw on the floor, completely blown away.
Lost Weekend's gig at the Golden Lion in Halifax on 3 December 2005 was an absolute stormer. The pub was completely packed the atmosphere was great.
I'm absolutely shite at writing reviews, so all I can say is they're a bloody good band and you should go and listen to them, cos they're all superb musicians and I've never heard them play a duff 'un yet. They all enjoy themselves immensely and they're a really nice bunch o' lads.
I don't have any pics of Jack actually playing the drums cos he's always hiding at the back, and Irvin's just as bad - I think he must duck every time he sees a camera. Just wait till I get the proper camera out - I'll blind the buggers wiv me flash :o) There will be no escape. Ha ha ha.
Last night was Manchester MAG's pre-nollaig bash and charity fundraiser. The turnout was somewhat disappointing and Tim & Rancid Tom had to go outside and throw some people in.
Mid-evening, was the Mr. Hex-Rated contest, which caused something of a stir. Eight hapless contestants were dressed up, and then interrogated, prodded and measured before being asked to perform a pole dance for the judges. I fear that some of the judges may never recover. Unbeknown to me, Bungle had been plotting, and at the end of the contest, the winner was coerced into performing a special 'dance' for me, so I was plonked into a chair and sat there doing a very good impression of a beetroot. All those who took part were brilliant and I take my hat off to the lot of them. Cheers Bungle. I think :p
On Thursday, owing to the stupidity of a foreign waitress in a crap café in Canterbury, I accidentally managed to eat a microscopic amount of tomato, and have been feeling shit ever since. Why is it that when I tell people that I am allergic to tomato, they seem to think it won't matter if they peel it off my plate and serve it up as though it was never there. I don't think I can make it much clearer than "I'm allergic to tomatoes and I will be very very sick if I eat anything which has even touched a tomato."
Well, having just had a bloody fantastic weekend at Caldarium MCC's Hex-Rated rally at Arncott (report later), I'm off again, this time to Staple in Kent for a week of fun and frolics with some friends. As Isla is completely and utterly mad (see photo for proof), I expect to come back completely exhausted. Please pray for my sanity - if she even gets the hint that there may be a theme park anyway en-route, we may never get to Kent. It was hard enough trying to get her off the see-saw in Ardrossan.
Wow! I managed to get one of the few remaining tickets. 5 minutes later, it was completely sold out.
I had a great time, singing round the bonfire, doing the quiz, watching the viking football and just chatting with friends, old and new. I didn't have such a great time shivering in my tent at 4am on Saturday though. Still, it soon warmed up once the sun came up.
One thing I'd really like to know... how did my sleeping bag end up full of peanuts? And what was Chris doing with this streamer? Do we really want to know?
An old friend of mine paid me a visit at work today, and said she'd brought me a present. She was carrying a large, oblong, cardboard box wrapped in a binliner. When I finally managed to unwrap it all - look what I found inside!
Congratulations to Councillor Andrew Furse of Bath and North East Somerset Council for coming out with possibly the most stupid statement of the year.
Thursday - boat trip from Souda Bay on the MV Ostria. Fantastic! Great tour guide (Kristo) showed us the cave of Barbarossa (a pirate)
and I had a ride on the 'banana' (don't be rude! It's the big yellow inflatable thing they tow behind a speedboat). Managed to skin my thumbs whilst trying to stay on the damn thing. It stung like hell when I had to jump in the sea to get back to the boat. Lovely dinner on the boat and then a bit later, another opportunity to swim in the sea which was, surprisingly, very warm. We were on the boat for several hours and the trip was well worth the €42. The taxi-driver (supplied by the rep) who took us from and back to Plakias, was very nice, but completely bonkers. He yattered on at us in Greek for the whole journey, not seeming to be at all bothered that we didn't understand 95% of what he was on about.
Cretan drivers seem to ignore speed limits, helmet/seatbelt laws, double white lines, etc. and love to beep the horn at every possible opportunity. I was enjoying the ride, despite the 32° heat, until I got to one particular hairpin between Rodhakino and Suda. There was a car coming the other way and a car behind me, and as I tried to turn, the bike started sliding sideways, so I put my foot down, and that started sliding too (I told you there was NO grip), so the bike started to go down and the slave decided to put his foot down. Him being smaller than me, this meant that I couldn't lift the bike back upright again because his leg was in the way. Then he gets off completely and grabs the bars off me, yelling "just let go, will you?" to which I responded "I will if you let go of my bloody thumb!". Anyway, I gently laid the bike down and got off, whilst the car drivers were tutting about the delay. Bollocks to 'em. No damage done, except to my pride.
