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And so yet another of many runs of the gauntlet variety through the ‘cash-cow’
cameras on the A68 on our way to the Dragonslayers’ Sober Up The Dragon
Number 8
Having attended 5,6 and 7 we just can’t help ourselves now and we
keep going back. The folks must be doing something right.
Running a rally for a couple of hundred folk with fourteen members working
it is one thing, but the same number running one for fourteen hundred folk
is another prospect entirely. Unless your off yer hied, hmm sounds like
Kev and crew !
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The Dragonslayers take a great deal of pride in their rally, trying to
improve it year on year, more stalls, good bands, a better site than two
years ago and cleaner bogs, less likely to make ye heave when ye go in
the morning after those many many , er, small sherries, honest officer.
To top it all it’s the friendly welcoming atmosphere, a lot of folk
and that it still feels like a small rally, that’s what keeps us
coming back. |
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Time to take up battle with the new tent which me missus made me buy at
the Farmyard, ye know the policeman–like grip on the elbow followed
by ‘We’re GOING to look at tents.
I figured as I’m getting’ an old fart now and years of quaffing
port and cigars in my luxurious padded smoking jacket have played havoc
with me gout, I’d go along with her. One tunnel tent and burning
wallet later we had what I figured was a huge tent.
I was wrong, no sooner had I got it up (oooerr) than I bumped into me
mate Skida from the Northumberland Bikers, who had what he calls ‘Skida
Towers’ , basically ‘the’ small housing estate of tents.
Only the eight pole marquee was bigger than this. |
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This year they had circled the wagons and fenced off the event area, good
idea in principle but a severe bout of incontinence from the clouds saw
fit to turn the avenue into a sticky quagmire of that chocolate custard
that this year’s summer seems to have a penchant for creating.
Yet another endearing feature of this rally is that they always have a
charity promotion of my very good friend Mr Daniels. Off course I had
to play the part of the ‘Leather Trousered Philanthropist’
and donate as much as I could to charity, all in a good cause y’know.
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Friday’s entertainment began with me falling
over, I managed to regain verticality with the aid of a friendly marquee
pole, then the real entertainment kicked off with ‘Rayne’, ‘Impact’
and ‘Full Tilt’.
Lots of folk were eager to see ‘Gangsters Of Ska’ . Personally,
I don’t particularly like Ska but I’d been told they were worth
watching. They didn’t disappoint, with a great stage show and presence
they whipped the assembled drunken rabble (including me) into joining in
all the songs.
When you put a “different” band on at a rally, and by that I
mean something other than the stereotypical rock covers and tributes, (not
that there’s anything wrong with that), you realise that you can fill
a bunch of partying bikers with alcohol and they’ll all jig aboot
and sing along to such masters as ‘My Girl Lollipop’.
At least until the Jenny went 'fizz, bang, pop, splut' and the marquee plunged
into darkness.
My sympathies to the club and the band, it’s a bummer when shit like
that happens.As it went, the power didn’t come back on for an hour
or so by which time most folk were either face down having a deep philosophical
conversation with the grass or had crashed out.
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