It was last year at the Minehoff that by sheer chance, the first impromptu Bikers1 AGP (annual general piss-up) took place, such a mermorable time was had by all , well I use memorable in the context of sketchy flash backs, which indicates 'a good time', that it became the concensus this year that we should 'organise' another, hah !, us, organise anything ???. This slick and seamless organisation took the shape of "wha's goin' tae the Minehoff ?". This monumental feat or organisation (evey time I type that word I still get the feeling of me mum catching me breaking something an me trying to lie my way out of it) resulted in a staggering turnout of strange and interesting fruit that generally hangs about the Shed.

I arrived on site about one o'clock, to find some of the Minehoff in 'stop the sign in tent blawin' away' mode, a length of rope normally use to ascend Munro's tethered the tent to a trailer, that'll hold it down, ........ or so they thought... The wind was up, reaching inner most parts of me beard and removing last week's breakfast, ok, eeeugh, not really, it just felt like it okay ?, my strict grooming regime would never allow a rogue bit of 'hutchfloorabix' to remain in there for more than, well, three days at most. I relaxed into a couple of roll ups and guid blethers awaiting my transport manager, the kind offer last week of 'I'm going to the Minehoff' you might as well throw yer tent in the car was irresistable to a 'lazius illigitimi maximus' like me, and as it turns out many other folk. Vix arrived in her fetching satin black handpainted, full of other folks camping gear, Corsa, now complete with halfords stick on chrome letters announcing to anyone behind, who may have remarked on the somewhat gothic finish of said vehicle that it was in fact a 'Corpsa'. All that practice and effort a few weeks ago when I won the Admirals Cup paid off as I wrought the tent into a sizeable headwind, rounded the needles and made 25 knots into Cowes, half dozen tent pegs later and we berthed.

However, due to an unfortunate turn of fate, I had pitched in the part of the field where the farmer had buired every stone turned up by the plough. Nodge hadn't arrived yet, I did assume that he wouldn't bring his deep sea drilling rig with him, well he's off duty fershrissakes, why would he ?, even if there was room in Florence's panniers, so a hammer would have to suffice. Vix had been, er, erm, organised, naw really ! and brought a Woolies Shed, more accurately referred to as a Gazebo, or gayzaybow as the aristocracy would later describe it.

always make sure your food premises is hygenic and secure from the elements

don't worry, Steve' got gaffa tape

Shed dwellers drifted in from all corners of the country, bearing items which indicated that there may have been some forethought or, heaven's above' some organisation going on, Lindy did however quosh my concerns, and announced that she'd forgotten her stove, all was well. The gazebo, which had previously appeared in the final of the 'Krapton Factor' did it's best to better us, but though sheer determination and grit if was erected. The wind was proving a challenge, hmmm, tie the guy ropes off onto the bikes, that'll make it secure...... or so we thought... Relative newcomer to rallies, Lady Tottington of Tottingham Castle arrived at this point, having been kidnapped at a previous rally come hen party, her mansrevants set about her pink erection, tent that is, I dinnae know, filthy minds !!?, the red carpet unfurled and ermine lined camping throne assembled. I need to describe these details as this article is being featured in next month's Horse & Hound, they like to know that kinda stuff. Taking our seats in the amkeshit (or is that a makeshift typo?) Shed, Andy produced his new toy, a gasmask with an additonal fitting, imaginatively fashioned by Steve. Decorum prevents me from describing said item nor detailing it's use any further, suffice to say, an hour later I couldn't bite my fingers, hell's teeth it's only five o'clock ! I was very hungry by this point.

ii

The bloke running the bar in the marquee was careting outside in a marquee with a fully fitted stainless steel kitchen, cooking to order (good burgers but long queues), the van parked next adjacent to shelter it from the wind....... or so he thought...... The music had begun to emanate from the marquee, Point Blank, Full Metal Racket and FM provided said entertainment, I didn't see most of it as I spent my time outside in the leper colony, where once can enjoy the fine but windy evening, and smoke roll-ups. Late Friday evening, the Mesoscale wind was reaching at least 21.1 gigapoops on the STFS scale (Stonedski Tent Flatting Scale), similar to the Beaufort Scale but with slightly moe bevelled edges. The resulting wind enabled the food tent to achieve escape velocity putting paid to everything except the remnants of the Chilli and Rice. We returned to the shed to find an abstract pattern metal and cloth on the ground, perhaps Jackson Pollock had paid a flying visit, or perhaps Woolie's gazebos simply can't take the pounding of the wind, the collapsing gazebo had taken Lindy's CBR with it, thankfully causing little damage.

got any biscuits ?

Awaking to a drooth, realising I hadn't grabbed bottles of water at the sign in tent when I arrived I crawled out in the direction of said sign in tent, and there it was, gone. Don't know if they ever found it, I needed any kind of watery based fluid, coffee, make for what's left of the food tent, yes, there's someone there, cooking, 'gimme a coffee', 'er, don't have any coffee, or water'....OK.. Fuck it, steal Scooby's truck (well 'volunteer it :-)' and head for Hattytown to replenish supplies. By the time we got back to site Ratty and Ozzy had appeared on a fly-by mission, Ratty is the man responsible for Nodge's amazing Star Wars paint job and Jenny's 'Destiny' SV650. How keeps Ozzy's hair out of the paint is anyone's guess. The mad-hatter's tea-party followed with Scone's and jam and cream an' stuff, Ozzy was on hand to hoover up any stray leftovers.

more tea vicar ?

haud oan, we're gonna fall off the world !!!!

ii

I wandered over to have a look at the entries in the bike show, Sparko thrust a pen and paper into my hand and said 'pick some winners'. There were no trikes in the show, Sparko dissappeared and a few moments later Johnny appeared on his goldwing engined trike, one down, the rest to go. There were many interesting and worthy machines in the field but a lot of folk aren't able/can't be arsed riding them up into the field. Richard's little sporty caught my eye immediately, sparse, sat well, another iron head (I think) sportster caught me too, looking about, my eye was repeatedly drawn back to these. There was no best paint category, despite there being a lot of nice paint on show . In the centre of the field was Andy Britten's battered GPz, Sparko regaled his story to me, of how he'd left home in yorkshire, got 100 yards, the torque arm mounting had snapped off an' he thought 'fuck it, I'm going' and carried on, further up the road binning it on a bend, hurting his wrist, but picking it up again and making it all the way to the site, I had to add a 'Guts and Glory' category for that stoic effort. Did I mention that the sun was blazing and the sky was blue ?, amazingly for this year, it was, nuff said.

how does he get himself in these positions

they say if you look carefully you can see the painter in his work

mind boys, nae smilin'

would you by a used car from tese people

As early evening crept up (when it thought we weren't looking, go on, show yer age, who sang that?) a band started in the marquee, ears pricked up, the general consensus, 'what a voice', turned out to be 'Leather and Beer', a bluesy rocky outfit wi a lass up front who could give Maggie Bell a run for her money, well I'm not sure how fast Maggie Bell could run now, being 62 'n all. Worth looking out for if this is yer bag, I'd like to see them in a dark smokey bar supping some Bulleit, but since ye cannae smoke in bars now there feck all chance of that happening.

The sun doffed it's hat and the rain decided to bear down, so ahead of schedule the pipers and drummer from Haddington pipe band skirled into the marquee to announce the fire jugglers and annual burn out. The poor young drummer looked terrified until they finished their first set to a rapturous applause and howls. Mair folk than just me who get the hairs up at the sound of the pipes then. Lucy and her pyromanic pal swung their fire, the fireworks were set off as Sparko readied the burn out bike. Some small mods had been made after last year when the wiring caught fire in the shape of cutting it's arse off and putting a steel plate behind the swing arm and tethering the bike so Sparko didn't need to sit on it. Despite giving it hell and several cans of lighter fluid the tyre point blank refused to light up, blowing itself out on every attempt. Not disheartened Sparko burned it out until it blew in a pall of smoke :-)

£100 winner was Daz ticket 201 from Beermonsters. In his absence he "volunteered" it back to the Minehoff for charity - it will be donated to NABD. Best Chop - Sportster, I wish everyone would turn up for their trophies, now I'm confused as to who's who, as usual, tell me which one's are wrong :-)

Furthest Travelled Female Tiny, from Devon, Women in The Wind 522 mile	Best Trike - Goldwing Johnny Sands	Furthest Travelled Male Dean - Beermonsters, Southampton 433 mile

Best Classic Triumph - Joan	Best Rat Streetfighters - Toto	Best Streetfighter Green Harris - Eggy

Best in Show Richard's Sportster	Biggest Club turnout Saints n Sinners	Guts n Glory Andy Britten – Beermonsters

Thanks to Christine and Vix for plotting this trophy, This write up was produced on it. The Minehoff for a great weekend Graeme Harkes for the photie Last but not least, the lunatics from the Shed who's company was priceless

Words & Pics by Al