GetDaFuk……In, stomp, stomp, stomp, chuck the litre of mineral water out, zzzzzzzzzzzztt, aye, it’s murder when ye’ve packed up and forget to put yer bottle o’ Jack in the panniers. Water or JD, Hmmm , Daddy or Chips?. Ok, start yer engines, we’re on a cross border raid, Berwick bound.
Having avoided rainin the every changing face of the A1, bloody hell they’ve moved the entire village of East Linton 800 yards to the left since I last rode down this road.A quick stop at the Cedar Cafe in Grantshouse for a steak pie that was wearing a crust like a really big Rasta bunnet. Onward.
Berwick (add ‘Upon-Tweed for it’s full Sunday name) is a town that can’t make it’s mind up what side of the border it’s on, considering as it has changed hands between England and Scotland thirteen times in it’s history.
Probably because kings were selling it back and forth to suit themselves and line thier pockets. (Ye even learned a bit of hstory there, and the answer to a pub quiz question 😉
Enough culture, onto the rally. Scremerston Rugby Club, a field and a bar, what else do we need?.
The rally had sold out on the wednesday before it, gettin damned popular these rally thingys dontchyaknow. Could it be the good company, beer, bikes, sun, sea sand?
Well, it had it all this year.
Most of the two hundred and fifty folk arrived on Friday night so the hall was jumpin’. Er, so was I at the Bar prices, I know Colin and Co had no control over it, but Town prices in a Rugby Club?, Er, Taxi to Safeway,
name?, er sober tight moanbags MCC !.
Independence from Dundee way were headlining both nights, but since we were sittin’ around our tents quaffing our wares from the ‘globalmarket’ we missed the first bands, ooops.
By the time we got into the hall Independence were just starting, judging by how quickly the dance floor filled they were well appreciated. Much jiggin’ aboot, and falling over, or was that just me?
After we were kicked out, despite being a cold cloudless night the party continued in the field until the wee small hours, a litre of water and two ibuheidthump tablets before crawling into yer sleeping bag would sort tomorrow out.
‘It’s a beautiful day’ sang the Levellers, they must have been in Berwick. Saturday morning and the Sun was ‘splitting the skies’ .
Borders bike club had revived the Quayside bike show. As good a reason as any to spend the afternoon in Berwick. Or maybe gettin’ a taxi to the pub and drinkin’ all afternoon was another option, well a few folk went hell for leather for the latter, we chose the former.
There was quite a mix of chops, classic Japs and British bikes, Rab walked off with the bet bike trophy and Steph won best trike, there were other trophies but I’m hungry and thirsty, where’s the pub.
Returning to the site, armed with more cheap beer to sit in the sun and, er, expose the ‘Auld Scot’s Blueskin’ to the ray’s of the sun. Anyone smell burnin’, aye, it’s ma face, hey Rudolph’s back, yer early, shut it !.
One of the hidden parts of this rally is the beach, I didn’t notice it last year, hmmm big yellow and blue thing, miles long, duh? .
It’s only a couple of miles down the road from the site, another place to lie about and drink beer, result !
Unfortunately we missed the first and second bands and the trophies, ooops again, I figure we just don’t get to sit about in the sun enough in this country so , what the hell, grab it while it’s goin’, eat, drink and be… burnt.
So us and our big red faces joined the other big red faces in the hall to party again to Independence, I take my hat off to the band, two nights in a row they worked hard. But then so did the dance floor of crimson bodies, hard work this partyin’ ye know.
The Falkirk boys turned up late on, having narrowly avoided a night in the cells over a particularly crap meal in an Indian Resturaunt in Berwick where the owner took umbridge at their constructive culinery criticism and called the Polis. Well done Davy for talkin’ yer way out of a spicy situation.
What the hell, let’s party.
Cheers to Colin and Crew, and the Sun, for a great weekend.
Words & Pics By Al
Lot’s of folk advised this as a good sightseeing spot, dunno, it was some woman Linda, who owned an old Farm on an island that had a problem with holes or something, that ye could only get to when the tide was out.