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It was 82 degrees in the shade, blue sky, not a cloud in it, just packing the last poke of emergency joob joobs into a tight space in the pannier, sweatin’ in the heat, get on the bike and ride hard into the searing heat of a bright sunny day, bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, b’stard alarm clock woke me up. Ok so it’s late february and the snow’s been causing it’s usual mild inconvenience, except for the odd flake falling in places where flakes normally don’t and triggering mass media hysteria. Never mind, fodder for a quiet news day. |
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Reality is somewhat different to what goes on inside me head in me kip. But hey, that’s a whole other bag of surreal marbles and disturbed nonsense. So, it’s chuffin’ freezin’, but, it’s been four and a bit months since my last rally and that herd of wild half horse, half naked ..erm, oops, dreamin’ again ;-) wouldn’t stop me getting’ to the Thistle rally. |
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A sentiment shared by many other folk apparently. The ‘Rally Full’ sign on display as I arrived certainly confirmed that suspicion. Having the benefit of hindsight after last years rally I’d packed my peruvian yak herder’s outdoor activity (jaggy but warm) underpants and a spare blanket. After all I didn’t want to freeze completely. |
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Signing in, getting’ ma wee hauf and scoffing a plate of brown sauce sprinkled with a pie it was time to complete the first part of the mission…. to the bar. Unsurprisingly there several of the usual suspects already installed in the bar, whom I won’t name in case their mum’s reading this. Needless to say they encouraged me to drink large quantities of Guinness and Jack in a very short period, a lot of catchin’ up to, makes ye thirsty dontcha know. |
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Suitably refreshed I wandered (in several directions at once) outside to put up the tent, thankfully I was distracted from this task, made all the harder by a sudden and surprising loss of dexterity by Dom & Nige, the former who had braved it down from Aberdeen on her banana 125. For reasons only known to a small vole which was observing from a distance, I left them mid sentence drawn by the waft of free rolls and sausage and coffee coming from the sign in tent, gotta pace yerself y’know. Apparently I didn’t. |
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