s’funny how after years an’ years of goin’ to rallies you fall into the
‘let’s get the hell there by the most direct and usually boring route possible’,
well it seemed it was time to forget that and take the ‘long way round’
for a change.
I met up with Foogy and we decided to ride over Glenshee and Braemar to
Lumsden instead of the more direct (and tedious) A90 to Eberdeen.
So much more scenic, and we were able to stop in at Blamoral and interfere
with Chuck and Cammilababy’s nuptuals, It had been a while but I think they
were glad to see us.
And so it was that the poor folk of Lumsden had us lot descend upon their
quiet wee village, they thought they seen the last of it after the Fat Bastards
moved their rally just a wee bit down the road, erm, tae Belgium .
Upon arrival we wre greeted most warmly by the F3 crew, Big Bri’s top box
bar overflowing with vodka and a rather fetching bottle of my good friend.
It would have been remiss of us of course to refuse such hospitality and
Big Bri’s not short with his measure, perhaps I should have got a hint as
to how this night would end.
Some minor booking of the double variety meant that we didn;t actually have
the hall for the Friday night, but the village had furnished us with Khayam’s
biggest ‘one touch’ (wi’ a big fuggin’ crane) tent.
What the hell it was dry, had posh floor and most importantly a bar.
Er, the bar sold drink, er, I went to it a lot, erm, you probably know what’s
Luckily there isn’t a law which states that thou shalt not operate photographic
equipment whilst under the influence of alchohol.
Being well over the limit I was trying to figure out how to work me new
camera. My already pickled brain could barely comprehend the technoheadfuck
that this was causing me, then Jesse drags me up to a round of the whirling
dervishes which always seems to accelerate the osmosis of alchohol into
the bloodstream and consequently causing increasingly poor co-ordination.
Perhaps it was me that was standing still and everyone else was wobbling
about. Crivvens I must be in an episode of Rhoobarb !
Ok it all starts to get a bit blurry now, feck all point writing anything,
I don’t know, I was just too blitzed to remember what was going on other
than there were hundreds of folk having a great party.
Apparently there was a band too.
At this point I’ll leave ye tae the photies, I’m away for a burger.
Best Bike GSXR1000
In His Kip
Sooooo, Saturday, erm, ahem, okay, complete utter write off, ‘it wiz somethin’
I ate’, ‘ a big boy did it and ran away’, ‘wisnae me occifer, ah wan’t
to speak to ma solicitor’.
I slept in me tent all day saturday after presenting me breakfast to Boab
on the ‘big white telephone’. Hence missed whatever was going on.
So, some shit went on on Saturday, end of notes.
On Saturday night a group of lassies played Celtig music and enticed some
folk up to Ceilidh dance, a couple of t-bones and some rear end shunts,
but no one was seriously hurt.
Oh FFS !
Followed by the ‘Full
Hog’ until everyone fell over.
So there ye go, a load of bollocks of a write up, just enjoy the photies,
my ADHD got the better of me
thanks to Seth, Goonz, Nige, Dom, Diane er and everyone else from AbMag
for a great rally.
Now, where that Betty Ford’s number.