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Due to a small calendar collision incident I hadn't made this rally for a couple of years. Yes I could have gone to the Rampant Lion which was only ten miles from my house, but, for me a good deal of the enjoyment of going to a rally is in the journey, me itchy feet can't wait to get on the road and get some miles in. Ask me again about this if it's pissed of rain for two hundred and seventy miles ! As it was the God's of precipatory cataclysms had donned their baffies, cracked open a tin and become engrossed in a particularly damp episode of River City. They didn't understand the dialect either.
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After six hours on the road, well that includes forty million smoke/pee/coffee stops, we arrived to find the site already heaving. Last time I was here there were maybe eight or nine hundred folk, this year there were sixteen hundred of us, this mini Farmyard is gettin' more popular by the minute. Camped up I had two missions, that I chose to accept, get very, very, drunk and hunt down Maggie as I owed her twenty quid for services rendered ;-) Having met with success on the second count I set about completing the first part of my mission with a vengance. Seems that everyone else had accepted the same mission. |
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The world needs colourful people |
A key element of Into The Valley of course, is the campfires. The rirual last last lager (JD) waltz back to the tent via dozens of fires newing and renewing old and new aquaintances, well ye get ma drift. In a moment of drunken frenzy, Bob and me , in an effort to create logs of a more manageable size, set about a particularly long bit of wood some eight inches in diameter with saws in a re-enactment of the 'Fridaythorpe Leatherman Massacre'. Ah well , seemed a good idea at the time, luckily we were distracted by Dave, Dave, Mick & Sara bearing a box of wine and a request to share the fire, which of course being hospitable Scots we gladly accepted. 'Hic'
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