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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
My strumming and howling partner from the Borders rally, Davey, was playing the first shift in his band, well him and another bloke, calling themselves ID. Damned fine they were too. Followed by Flint with pipes, bodhrans and generally Pogueing everyone about.
You’ll have guessed by now that I can’t actually recall a great deal of detail from Friday night, apart from lots of bletherin’ andd drinking late on into the night.
Scooby was however a few yards in front of me, having had her loony switch, switched on and dancing about in her usual dervish style quickstep/hop thing had her switch flick to off as instantaneously as it had switched on.
What does the T-Shirt say, one tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor, well Terry’s shoulder would have to be a makeshift floor.
Having been ably assisted to her room by me and the mysterious Russian Social Defector double agent, Kristina Hackinkoff, I spent a moment staring into the bathroom sink, audibly witnessing her torturing the poor Scooby by the forceful attiring of her ‘jammies’, I’m sure they banned that in the Gulags furchrissake !
Obviously I was caught off guard, I can only assume that the mysterious double agent ‘hackinkoff’ had drugged me with that insidious drug ‘kiptin morganium’, as daylight did what it does, as in got bright all of a sudden, I found myself face down on a particulary comfortable berber twist axminster. Oh well, beats the crap out of freezin’ in my tent.
The cost of this hospitality, crawl to the sign in tent and come back with rolls and sausage, warned that on return, any ommission of ‘matty sauce’ would result in instant death.
One hangover, a Bigger Cow Pie later and it was time for the silly games, silly as in standing about in a frozen field watchin’ folk fling wellies whilst standing on a rock. I thought the mere feat of standing deserved a prize.
Inclement conditions meant that there were only two teams for the tug of war, one from the ‘Quay Vipers’ from Northern Ireland and the other called ‘I wasn’t paying attention’. The contest was however declared a draw.
Frad & Beeza Bill’s Bird
Silliness over it’s time to party all over again. ‘Apparition’ circled the wagons and got everyone dancin’ , the trophies were awarded, amongst them ‘Best Bike’ to Joan and her recently acquired Triumph hardtail chop on it’s first real shakedown run, without too much incident other than an impression of the ‘Amoco Cadiz’.
It was a good turnout, lots of folk travelling quite a distance to party on a frozen weekend, Quay Vipers, Ogri MCC and of course the omnipresent Black Widows RC.
The mark of a great party is that you really can’t remember much about it other than that you had a stonkin’ good time, of course that’s my excuse for the lack of any pertinent detail, maybe I’ll learn to pace myself by the next rally, HA ! Thanks to the Forth Valley MCC for a great rally, see ye’s next year, if not before, hopefully slightly more compus mentus and finishing me sentences.
Oldest Rallyist Ian Hay Mercury MCC He was in his bed