Suitably fed, off back to the site up the long hill in the blistering heat.
Saturday afternoon entertainment was provided by the "Blood Brothers", more of whom on the next page.
Kev asked if I would judge the bikes with him and Mel, who was covering the rally for BSH.
There were good examples of every kind of bike genre, a very tidy Triton which although didn't win best classic was definitely worth a mention.
'kin 'ell how did THAT get up me nose?!
Saturday, 07:30am, aaargh 3 hour's sleep, tent like the inside of a volcano, crawl out and it's a brilliant day again, save for the thumpin' in my head and the droppings of the badger that had curled in and died in me gob.
Uuuurgh, coffee, stagger stagger crawl crawl to the burger van, next year Kev get some more food vans or better still just get a dairy tanker and fill it with coffee, oh and boxes of 'sore hied' pills.
The food van surrounded by lots of bedraggled folk, everyone I spoke to declared it a 'kin brilliant night'.
Having reached a state of semi compus mentusness it was the obligatory stagger off to the sleepy rural hamlet of Lanchester. Helpfully the sign at the gate indicated that the King's Head pub was no longer 'biker friendly' due to a change of ownership to dim folk who don't want bikers. "fuck 'em"
The queens head was doing a roaring trade, the beer garden was full. Some, I presume, rally virgins were "gettin' it" in the beer garden although they looked a bit long in the tooth to be rally virgins
It's always hard to judge bikes when there isn't a formal show, i.e. with information sheets. Which ones have been bought in their present condition, which are "cheque book specials", who has spent every waking hour in the shed going hungry to build their dream beasty.
The results are on page four.